MARIOfl  HARLAND'S  WORKS. 


1. — ALONE. 

2. — HIDDEN  PATH. 

8. — MOSS  SIDE. 

4. — NEMESIS. 

6. — MIRIAM. 

6. — THE  EICTTY  HEART. 

7. — HELEN  GARDNER. 

8.  — 8UNNYBANK. 

9. — HUSBANDS  AND  HOMES. 
10. — KUBY'8  HUSBAND. 
11. — PHEMIE'S  TEMPTATION. 

12. — AT  LAST. 

13. — TKUE  AS  STEEL. 

14. — JESSAMINE. 

15. — FROM  MY  YOUTH  UP. 

16. — MY  LITTLE   LOVE.      (New.) 

"The  Novels  of  Marion  Harland  are  of  surpassing  ex- 
cellence.   By  intrinsic  power  of  character-draw- 
ing and  descriptive  facility,  they  hold 
the  reader's  attention  with  the 
most  intense  interest 
and  fascination." 


All  published  uniform  with  this  volume.     Price  f  1.60 
each,  and  sent  free  by  mail,  on  receipt  of  price, 

BY 

G.  W.  CARLETON  «Jk  CO., 
New  York. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 


BY 

MARION    HARLAND, 


AUTHOR   OF 


"ALONE,"  "HIDDEN  PATH,"  "MOSS-SIDE,"  "NEMESIS,"  "MIRIAM," 

"AT  LAST,"  "TRUE  AS  STEEL,"   "JESSAMINE," 

"FROM  MY  YOUTH  UP,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

G.    W.    Carle  fan  &    Co.,   Publishers. 


LONDON:    S.  LOW  &  CO. 
MDCCCLXXVI. 


COPYRIGHTED,  1876,  BY 
G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 


JOHN  F.  TROW  &  SON, 

PRINTERS  AND  S TEKKOTYPKRS, 

205-213  Kast  I2//4  St., 

NEW  YORK. 


TO     THE     MEMORY 

OF 

"THE  SWEETEST  SOUL 
THAT  EVER  LOOKED  WITH  HUMAN  EYES." 

MARION  HARLAND. 


2072323 


"You  could  hardly  have  seen  her  face  thoroughly  meeting  yours 
without  believing  that  human  creatures  had  done  nobly  in  times 
past,  and  might  do  more  nobly  in  times  to  come.  The  finest 
child-faces  have  this  consecrating  power,  and  make  us  shudder 
anew  at  all  the  grossness  and  basely-wrought  griefs  of  the  world, 
lest  they  should  enter  here  and  defile." 

GEORGE   ELIOT  (Daniel  Deronda). 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

!._««  There's  Sand— now  !  " 1 1 

II. — Ailsie  Darling 27 

III. — Rain  upon  the  Roof 44 

IV.— "Papa!" 62 

V. — Headache  and  Diplomacy 83 

VI.— How  the  Old  Tree  Fell 95 

VII.— Troth-plight 107 

VI 1 1.— Hasheesh 122 

IX. — In  Clover 142 

X. — Robin  Adair 157 

XI. — (Fool's)  Paradise  Lost 170 

XII.—"  The  Nine  Column  " 181 

XIII.— Comforted 197 

XIV.— Blessed  St.  Valentine 223 

XV. — Home 231 

XVI.— The  Memorial  Pine 251 

XVII. — How  One  Promise  was  kept 270 

XVIII.— Witch-hazel 287 

XIX.— My  Oriole 300 

XX  —In  the  Woods 320 

XXI.— "Good-bye,  Sweetheart" 331 

XXII.—"  Withered  " 343 

XXIII.  —  "  Pulling  through  " 355 

XXIV.—  The  Winter  Robin 371 

XXV.—"  At  Six  O'clock  this  Morning  " 385 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"THERE'S  SAND — NOW!" 

?ENT  to  the  country  to  recover  his  health  !  " 

It  was  stamped  all  over  me  as  legibly  as  if  I 
had  been  hung  with  painted  canvas,  white  ground, 
black  lettered,  like  the  animated  sign-boards  one 
meets  on  city  streets — automata  who  have  sold  the 
birthright  of  manhood  for  five  cents  an  hour  and  the 
moral  privilege  of  making  known  to  curious  and  loath- 
ing spectators  the  virtues  and  price  of  "  Detersive 
Soap  "  and  "  Balm  of  a  Million  Flowers." 

Very  white  as  to  face,  very  black  as  to  eyebrows 
and  hair  and  sunken  eyes,  a  mere  bundle  of  long-drawn-out 
bones  and  lax  sinews,  indifferent,  in  the  main,  about  the  pre- 
servation in  any  circumstances  of  the  scanty  remains  of  vi- 
tality spared  by  the  six  weeks  of  fever  from  which  I  had  just 
escaped  with  what  people  were  pleased  to  call  life — yet  pre- 
ferring, if  the  matter  were  left  to  me,  to  scrape  together  the 
wrecks  anywhere  else  than  just  where  I  found  myself  on  a 


12  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

certain  tenth  of  June,  when  I  recollected  that  I  was  twenty- 
one  years  old. 

The  date  was  recalled  to  me  in  this  wise  : 

"  Deary  me  ! "  said  the  grand-dame  of  the  farm-house  to 
which  I  had  been  consigned  during  my  supposed  convales- 
cence. "  A  Wednesday  mornin',  and  the  tenth  day  of  June, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  Anner  Dominy — ain't  it?  We  was 
married — yer  Pa  'n'  me,  fifty-seven  year  ago  this  very  arter- 
noon,  Ezry.  It  don't  'pear  as  if  it  could  'a  been.  Peace  ! 
peace !  when  there's  no  peace  !  And  him  a-lyin'  in  his  grave 
in  the  churchyard,  with  a  black  slate  stun  at  his  head,  this 
twenty  year,  poor  man  1  It's  fa'r  tuk  away  my  appertite — not 
to  say  that  I  had  much  to  start  with  !  " 

She  pushed  away  the  bowl  of  "rye  'n'  Injun  bread" 
soaked  in  milk,  which  she  affected,  she  was  careful  to  inform 
me  at  each  meal,  "  because  she  hadn't  no  teeth  to  speak  of." 
Truth  to  say,  I  should  have  been  better  satisfied  had  her 
want  of  these  troublesome  yet  useful  appliances  been  passed 
over  in  silence  as  discreet. 

I  also  had  had  no  appetite  to  begin  with,  nor  found  aught 
provocative  of  zest  in  the  salt  herrings  and  stale  bread,  white 
and  brown,  the  weak,  over-sweetened  coffee  and  cold  boiled 
potatoes  that  composed  the  regulation  morning  meal.  In- 
creased disrelish,  and  of  a  more  decided  tvpe,  seized  upon 
palate  and  diaphragm  at  the  crone's  speech. 

It  was  my  birthday.  I  had  attained  my  majority,  speaking 
after  the  manner  of  men.  Legally  I  was  free,  because  white 
and  twenty-one.  I  could  even — and  I  descried  grim  pleas- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  13 

antry  in  the  reflection — make  a  will,  if  I  liked,  and  had  any- 
thing worth  the  trouble  of  bequeathing  over  my  hand  and 
seal ;  might,  in  lawful  seriousness,  call  all  men  to  witness  by 
these  presents,  that  I  was  of  sound  mind,  with  as  many  other 
involvements  of  words  and  as  royal  disregard  of  sense  as 
might  suit  my  whim.  I  was  the  Benjamin  of  my  tribe,  yet 
neither  brother,  sister,  nor  my  twice-wedded  father  had  recol- 
lected what  anniversary  this  was,  or,  if  it  were  remembered, 
had  cared  to  recognize  it  by  written  word  or  token.  I  was 
too  weary  and  dull  to  be  hurt  by  the  omission.  A  sense  of 
greater  fatigue  and  of  physical  nausea  moved  me  to  mutter 
an  excuse  to  the  mistress  of  the  board. 

"  Very  excusable,  Mr.  Haye  !  "  responded  she,  with  an  in- 
clination of  her  sheet-iron  figure. 

Mrs.  Ezra  Gaskin  prided  herself  upon  an  experimental  ac- 
quaintance with  the  essential  rules  and  forms  of  good  soci- 
ety, country-bred  though  she  was.  Her  phrase  of  acquies- 
cence was  "  altogether  the  thing."  She  could  not  have 
respected  herself  had  she  failed  to  use  it  in  the  circum- 
stances. 

I  made  my  way  out  of  the  apartment,  half  kitchen,  half 
dining-room,  where  the  breakfast-table  was  spread,  into  the 
porch  beyond.  Standing  in  the  doorway  of  this,  which  was 
rankly  overrun  by  old-fashioned  "  Matrimony-vine,"  I  did 
not  avoid  hearing  the  farmer's  comment  upon  my  retreat. 

"He  hain't  got  no  stomach  for  hullsome  victuals.  I 
minded  yisterday,  'Liza,  that  he  went  raal  white  about  the 
gills  over  your  biled  dinner,  what  was  good  enough  for  a 


14  M  Y  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

king.  I  could  swallow  a  biled  dinner  if  I  lay  at  death's 
door.  I  guess  there  warn't  never  much  peth  into  him,  even 
when  he  was  well." 

I  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  contradict  him.  What 
difference  did  it  make,  since  the  pith  was  missing  from 
the  frame  that  tottered  down  the  hill,  with  queerly 
overlapping  ankles — to  hide  itself  like  other  spent  animals 
in  the  woods — that  I  had  been,  within  four  months,  the  best 
wrestler  and  leaper  in  rny  college,  and  prided  myself  upon 
the  length  of  limb  that  made  me  so  often  victor  in  skating 
and  foot-races  ? 

I  was  utterly  fagged  out  by  the  time  I  gained  the  shelter 
of  the  maple-grove  I  had  marked  from  my  chamber-window 
as  a  place  where  I  might  be  left  to  myself  and  the  misery 
of  my  good-for-nothingness.  It  was  fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  farm-house,  and  I  had  not  walked  so  far  since  my 
illness.  The  ground  sloped  prettily  beyond  the  maples, 
cedars,  white  birches,  and  beeches  taking  their  place.  The 
undergrowth  thickened  into  wildness  toward  the  bottom  of 
the  hill,  and,  blent  with  the  rustle  of  the  leaves,  I  heard  the 
ripple  of  water.  I  was  always  thirsty,  then-a-days.  My 
throat  and  mouth  were  drier  and  hotter  for  the  sound  that 
conjured  up  the  vision  of  a  gleaming,  dancing  brook.  Sliding 
and  stumbling,  stopping  twice  to  rest,  I  went  down,  down 
over  slippery  leaf-mould  and  mossy  rocks,  until  I  stood  upon 
the  brink  of  a  shallow  stream,  so  broad  that  the  sun  broke 
for  itself  a  path  between  the  foliage  lining  the  banks,  and 
glittered  upon  the  gravel  under  the  brown  water.  I  scooped 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  15 

up  tremulous  handfuls  of  the  liquid,  spilling  much  of  it  on 
the  way  to  my  mouth,  and  pitying  myself  for  losing  it. 

I  was  sorry  for  myself,  continually,  the  while  I  despised 
ithe  unmanly  emotion.  Sorry — not  that  I  was  losing  time 
from  my  studies,  and  forfeiting  the  opportunity  of  gaining 
the  class-honor  I  had  resolved  to  win,  before  the  pith  was 
•taken  out  of  me  ;  not  that  my  healthy  relatives  had  not  con- 
cerned themselves  more  evidently  about  my  recovery  and 
had  taken  no  heed  of  my  loss  of  spirits ;  but  sadly  compas- 
sionate for  one  with  whom  active  feeling  of  whatever  kind 
was  no  longer  possible,  for  whom  the  lights  and  shadows  of 
life  had  run  into  one  dreary  middle-tint.  Sorrier  than  for  all 
else  that  I  was  "  so  tired ! "  Not  in  body  alone,  but,  as  I 
phrased  it,  "  tired  all  through." 

I  sat  down  upon  a  rock  at  the  root  of  a  tree,  leaned  against 
the  trunk,  and  repeated  aloud  the  sentence  that  stands  at 
the  head  of  this  chapter  : 

"  Sent  to  the  country  to  recover  his  health  !  " 

I  laughed.  My  excellent  father  had  unwittingly  perpetrated 
a  ghastly  practical  joke.  There  might  have  been  a  chance 
of  revivification  in  the  city,  where  the  very  air  was  instinct 
with  the  electric  stir  of  human  life.  Here,  the  only  luxuri- 
ance was  vegetable.  There,  in  time,  my  spirit  might  have 
rallied  to  the  thought  that  existence  was  worth  the  keeping, 
where  it  brought  so  much  that  others,  sane  in  body  and  mind, 
sought  and  prized.  Here,  one  had  only  to  sit  still  and  let 
himself  be  drifted  out  of  being  into  the  dim  Silence  about 
which  I  could  not  take  the  trouble  to  speculate,  except  to 


1 6  M  Y  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

hope  that  in  dreamless  sleep  I  might  be  rid  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  tired  self.  I  sat  all  huddled  together,  my  lank  hands 
crossed  below  my  knees,  which  were  drawn  up  to  support  my 
chin,  and,  because  the  sun's  track  a-down  the  brook  was 
dazzling  from  its  bright  unsteadiness,  I  shut  my  eyes  the 
better  to  commiserate  myself.  I  was  incapable  of  a  con- 
nected line  of  thought,  yet  my  memory  strayed  back — liter- 
ally strayed,  for  I  made  no  effort  to  control  it— to  the  mo- 
notonous plaint  of  a  young  girl  I  had  helped  drag  from  the 
trampling  hoofs  of  a  runaway  team  in  the  street,  the  winter 
before  my  sickness.  I  held  her  head  while  we  bore  into  the 
nearest  druggist's  the  mangled  thing  that  had  been  erect  and 
well,  sixty  seconds  ago,  and  stayed  by  her  until  a  physician 
arrived.  Ten  minutes  may  have  elapsed  while  I  knelt  by  the 
lounge,  wiping  the  blood  and  sweat  from  the  drawn  face  that 
must  have  been  pretty  before  it  was  so  pale.  It  was  like  a 
half-a-day  to  me,  and  in  all  that  time  she  said  nothing  but 
"  Poor  me  !  poor  me  ! "  over  and  over  and  over,  until  my 
brain  rang  with  the  hearing.  I  had  read,  too,  as  a  neat  bit 
of  French  pathos,  the  story  of  Madame  de  Stael's  consump- 
tive niece  and  her  tearful  "  Je  me  regrette  /  "  It  was  some- 
thing to  regret  the  loss  of  the  desire  to  live,  if  only  because 
it  presupposed  the  ruin  of  so  much  else. 

"  I  am  a  wreck  past  rehabilitation,"  I  said,  with  a  very 
faint  tincture  of  bitterness  in  the  decision.  "  And  I  don't 
care  !  " 

The  clear  brown  water  rippled  through  the  grasses  and 
tinkled  over  the  gravel ;  the  beeches  and  birches  whispered 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 7 

among  themselves,  and  a  lonely  pine  behind  me  sighed  in 
the  dreamy  summer  air.  A  robin  chirped  near  by,  and  a 
crow  cawed  afar  off. 

"  I  have  only  to  let  go  of  sight,  hearing,  and  breath,  and 
drift  out,  drift  out ! "  ran  my  thoughts  to  the  rhythmic  flow 
of  the  stream,  gliding  down  to  the  unknown  river  in  the  low- 
lands. 

"  Dying  must  be  easier  work  than  living  when  one's  vital 
apparatus  was  so  badly  damaged,"  I  meditated  further,  still 
with  no  liveliness  of  curiosity.  "  What  was  the  precise  nature 
of  the  sensation  of  letting  go  ?  How  much  more  feebly  and 
sluggishly  must  the  thin  current  in  my  wrists  run  before  the 
veins  were  empty  ?  And  the  heart,  would  it  stagnate  gradu- 
ally, or  the  beat  of  the  arterial  pump  be  checked  in  mid-leap  ?" 
Finally,  I  wondered,  if  anything  more  were  needed  to  end 
the  pitiful  playing  at  living,  than  to  stop  doing  at  all — to  give 
up  and  be  drifted  out.  I  invariably  came  back  to  that. 

I  did  not  start,  as  some  invalids  would  have  done,  at  a 
splash  and  spatter  in  the  stream.  My  nerves  seemed  too 
weak  to  be  irritable.  But  my  fingers  held  my  knees  harder, 
and  my  eyelids  parted  in  time  to  see  the  eddies  close  upon 
the  stone  that  had  fallen  midway  between  the  two  banks. 
With  a  sense  of  languid  annoyance,  I  exerted  myself  so  far 
as  to  turn  my  head  and  look  for  the  intruder. 

A  little  girl  stood  upon  a  flat  stone  surrounded  by  water, 
lying  about  a  yard  from  the  hither  shore.  Her  left  hand  was 
filled  with  pebbles,  and  these  she  proceeded  to  fling,  with  ex- 
treme deliberation  and  unfeminine  dexterity  as  far  as  she 


1 8  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

could  into  the  brook,  waiting  until  the  circle  made  by  each 
had  "  dispersed  itself  to  nought,"  before  tossing  in  another. 
Every  throw  was  made  with  the  forecast  of  a  philosopher, 
not  with  the  reckless  hilarity  of  the  mere  baby  she  looked 
to  be.  When  both  hands  were  emptied,  she  stood  perfectly 
still,  her  fingers  interlocked,  still  watching  the  gliding 
water. 

At  last  she  stooped  as  if  impelled  by  a  resistless  temptation, 
gathering  her  frock  about  her  that  it  might  not  dip  in  the 
stream,  and  made  as  if  she  would  gather  a  handful  of  the 
shining  gravel  strewn  about  the  base  of  the  stone,  and  barely 
covered  by  the  ripples.  She  leaned  over  so  far  that  I  ex- 
pected to  see  her  lose  her  balance,  and  undid  the  loose 
knot  of  legs  and  hands  in  readiness  for  the  rescue  should  the 
accident  occur.  In  another  second  she  stood  upright  again, 
brushing  the  water  from  her  finger-tips.  Putting  her  hands 
behind  her  back,  she  remained  stationary  as  before,  gazing 
down  upon  the  sungilt  gravel-bed. 

The  grave  wistfulness  of  the  face  now  turned  toward  me 
interested  me  sufficiently  to  fix  my  attention  upon  her  move- 
ments, and  to  keep  me  motionless  in  my  covert  of  hazel 
bushes  that  she  might  not  be  frightened  away  by  the  dis- 
covery that  she  was  not  alone.  She  was,  I  judged,  between 
six  and  seven  years  old;  straight  as  a  reed,  with  well-rounded 
figure  and  limbs,  an  oval  face  and  brunette  complexion,  set 
off  by  a  pink  muslin  frock  and  white  apron.  Her  hair,  dark 
and  thick,  was  combed  back  from  her  forehead  and  bound 
with  pink  ribbon.  Her  hands,  although  tanned  like  a  gyp- 


LITTLE  LOVE.  19 

sey's,  were  beautifully  formed.  She  was  no  rustic,  or  forest 
child,  I  concluded  promptly  after  a  study  of  these  "  points," 
simple  as  was  her  dress  and  at  home  though  she  seemed  on 
the  border  of  the  woodland  stream.  Nor  was  my  mental 
query  in  watching  her — "What  is  she  looking  at?"  but, 
"What  is  she  thinking. of?" 

The  inharmonious  cry  of  a  cat-bird  in  the  tree  against 
which  I  leaned  severed  the  chain  of  abstraction.  She  glanced 
around  and  saw  me.  A  blush  swept  up  to  her  hair,  lighting 
the  dark  cheeks  richly;  then  she  bowed  with  serious  tranquil 
grace  that  surprised  me  more  than  her  appearance  had  ; 
bounded  lightly  back  to  the  bank,  walked  directly  up  to  me, 
and  offered  her  hand. 

"  Good-morning,  sir  !    I  hope  you  are  better." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  have  been  sick?"  asked  I, 
smiling  at  her  artless  politeness. 

"  We  heard  there  was  a  sick  gentleman  from  the  city  board- 
ing at  Mr.  Gaskin's  house.  And  you  are  so  thin  and  white  I 
knew  it  must  be  you.  I  dare  say  you  will  be  well  very  soon. 
Papa  says  this  country  is  very  healthy.  I  wouldn't  worry 
about  myself  if  I  was  in  your  place." 

I  smiled  now  because  I  could  not  retain  my  gravity  under 
the  quaint  counselling. 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  wishes.     I  cannot  be  sure  that 

the  country  air  will  do  me  good,  but  you  are  very  kind  to  care 

about  it  at  all.  What  were  you  worrying  over,  standing  upon  the 

rock  down  there  and  staring  the  water  out  of  countenance  ?  " 

"I  wasn't  worrying."     She  managed  the  double  r  rather 


20  MY  L1TL TE  LO VE. 

awkwardly,  a  touch  of  baby  patois  that  was  odd  in  her  grand- 
motherly mode  of  address.  "  I  was  only  thinking  hard. 
Don't  you  believe  there  must  be  the  beautifullest  kind  of 
sand  and  gravel  in  heaven  ?  " 

I  tried  not  to  look  amused  under  her  questioning  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  shouldn't  like  to  say  that  there  is,  or  is 
not.  I  never  was  there." 

"  Course  not !  "  a  touch  of  disdain  in  the  solemn  nod. 
"Nobody  ever  went  to  heaven  and  earned — came — back 
beceps"  (except)  "Moses  and  Elijah.  They  wouldn't  have 
done  it  either  only  to  see  the  dear  Saviour.  On  the  mountain, 
you  remember.  I'm  pretty  certain  there  must  be  loads  and 
piles  of  sand  and  gravel  in  heaven,  for  they  are  just  the  nicest 
things  in  the  world  to  play  with,  and  mamma  says  I  mustn't, 
without  they  are  dry  as  bones." 

"  That  is  a  little  hard — isn't  it?"  said  I,  sympathizingly, 
for  her  visage  expressed  deep  dejection.  "  I  should  say, 
now,  that  they  were  as  clean  as  they  are  pretty." 

She  shook  her  wise  little  head. 

"  'Twon't  do  to  take  things  from  the  looks  of  them.  They 
get  fearfully  wet,  you  see,  staying  under  the  water,  and 
they're  nothing  but  common  stones  when  they're  dry.  Ever 
so  ugly,  some  of  them.  And  I  ,r#/-pose  "t wasn't  quite  proper 
for  me  to  fill  the  lap  of  my  nice  white  dress  with  them  and 
carry  them  home  to  put  into  Aunt  Evy's  bowl.  She  can't 
walk  so  far,  and  I'd  been  telling  her  how  they  shone  like  all 
sorts  of  precious  stones,  and  she  said  she  had  no  doubt  they 
were  perfectly  lovely !  They  were,  too  ! " 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  21 

The  ruffles  of  her  bib-apron  trembled  in  the  sigh  that 
swelled  her  bosom. 

"  But  mamma  scolded — did  she  ?  "  queried  I. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  raised  her  eyebrows  in  a 
gesture  that  was  irresistibly  comic. 

"  Depends  upon  what  kind  of  scolding  you're  used  to  ! 
She  said  she  would  put  me  to  bed.  next  time,  and  make  me 
stay  there  all  day.  It  is  horrid  to  be  put  to  bed  in  the  day- 
time, in  the  summer,  and  hear  the  birds  and  chickens  and 
children  and  even  the  ducks  playing  and  singing  out-of-doors. 
Mamma  always  does  what  she  promises,  so  I  can't  touch  them" 
— nodding  backward  at  the  gravel  bed.  "  Besides  I  prom- 
ised I  wouldn't,  and  'twould  be  a  shame  if  she  couldn't  trust 
such  a  great  girl  to  keep  her  word.  I  came  awfully  near  for- 
getting though  !  I  got  my  fingers  right  into  the  water  before 
I  remembered.  Oh  !  how  frightened  I  was  !  It  is  fearfully 
hard  to  do  right — isn't  it  ?  " 

"  For  wicked  big  boys,  perhaps."  I  began  to  find  her 
frankness  contagious.  "  But  I  don't  believe  you  often  do 
wrong.  You  look  like  an  amiable,  well-behaved  little  girl. 
I  can't  think  that  you  ever  lose  your  temper,  and  say  sharp  or 
cross  things." 

Another  shrug. 

"  Dorft  I,  though  ?  I  got  mad  with  Mary — that's  our 
nurse,  you  know,  this  very  morning,  and  called  her  an  Irish 
idiot)  and  said  I  wished  she  hadn't  ever  been  borned;  that  I 
didn't  see  what  the  Lord  made  that  kind  for.  That  was 
wicked — downright.  And  last  week  I  cursed  her." 


22  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"What!" 

"  I  did  !  cursed  her  so  dreadfully  that  she  went  to  mamma 
about  it.  Mamma  made  me  ask  her  pardon  ;  papa  laughed. " 

"  Liberal  ideas  papa's  must  be  respecting  juvenile  profan- 
ity ! "  I  thought. 

She  went  on.  "He  laughed  when  Mary  wasn't  looking 
at  him,  so's  not  to  hurt  her  feelings  I  sup-pose.  But  wasn't 
she  angry  with  me  !  She  told  mamma  what  I  said  was  the 
worstest  curse  anybody  could  wish." 

"What  did  you  say?"  curious  to  get  at  the  phraseology 
of  this  terrific  malediction.  It  was  difficult  to  imagine  that 
the  lips  I  was  looking  at  had  ever  been  sullied  by  an  oath. 

"  I  said,  '  Bad  luck  to  the  ship  that  brought  you  over  ! '  It 
was  very  bad,  I  sup-pose,  but  she  had  thrown  away  the  nest 
of  sweet  little  field-mice  Jo  Bragdon  found  for  me  in  the 
meadows,  and  she  called  them  '  crayturs.'  That's  why  I 
cursed  her.  I'd  do  it  again!"  kindling  up  fierily  in  eyes 
and  color  and  doubling  down  her  fingers  forcibly  upon  her 
palms.  "  It  was  hateful !  " 

"  I  agree  with  you  entirely.  She  ought  to  have  been  sunk 
with  the  ship.  And  this  morning — what  was  the  matter 
then  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  dearest,  darlingest  hop-toad  you  ever  saw  !  I 
caught  it  last  night  and  made  it  a  bed  of  grass  and  cotton  in 
an  old  cigar-box  that  the  smell  had  gotten  out  of,  and  gave  it 
a  supper  of  flies  and  tied  some  old  lace  over  the  top  to  keep 
him  from  smuddering,  and  put  it  under  my  bed,  far  back 
against  the  wall,  where  he  ought  to  have  been  safe.  She 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  23 

found  it  while  I  was  in  the  barn-yard,  digging  worms  for  his 
breakfast.  When  I  came  back  the  box  was  empty." 

Her  voice  faltered,  and  she  winked  fast  two  or  three  times. 

"When  I  told  her  I  should  complain  to  mamma  and  make 
her  send  her  away,  she  said  I  was  enough  to  fret  a  saint,  litter- 
ing up  a  Christian's  house  with  bastes.  Then" — the  corners 
of  her  mouth  twitching  in  a  sly  smile,  while  her  eyelids  drooped 
shamefacedly — "  I  called  her  a  baste  herself  and  said  that  I 
^tested  her.  Mary  can  be  a  good  girl,  but  dear  me  !  she  is 
very  twy\ng  sometimes  ! "  with  her  knowing  shake  of  the  head. 

"  You  are  a  funny  little  lady  !  " 

I  cannot  convey  by  written  words  any  adequate  impression 
of  the  mixture  of  womanliness,  naivete  and  childish  naughti- 
ness that  excited  my  mirthful  amazement.  It  was  as  if  the 
plump-breasted  robin,  fussily  busy  with  her  young  ones  over- 
head, had  hopped  to  my  feet  and  entertained  me  with  a  his- 
tory of  her  daily  life,  trials,  and  peccadilloes. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  I  made  so  free  as  to  inquire. 

"  In  town,  when  we  are  at  home.  We  are  staying  at 
grandpa's  a  long  time  this  summer  because  baby  is  cutting 
her  eye-teeth.  I  like  the  country  above  everything,  but  you 
can't  be  perfectly  contented  anywhere,  and  there  are  so 
many  temptations  !  There's  sand,  now  1  not  the  gravelly 
sort,  but  smooth  land-sand.  You  wouldn't  believe  what  ele- 
gant houses  and  fences  and  ca&tels  anybody  can  make  out  of 
it.  WThen  it's  damp,  you  understand.  'Twon't  stay  fixed 
if  it's  dry;  but  mamma  says  dry  sand  is  clean,  and  wet 
sand  dirty.  There's  not  a  morsel  of  fun  in  that." 


J24  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

I  uncoiled  my  limbs  and  straightened  my  spine. 

"  I  think  you  and  I  together  can  manage  it.  I  will  bring 
'the  sand  up  here  on  these  dry,  broad  rocks,  and  you  can 
build  your  houses.  I'll  see  that  the  sand  is  not  wet  enough 
to  soil  your  dress." 

"  Good  !  good ! "  clapping  her  hands.  "  I  had  no  i-de-a 
you  were  such  a  nice  gentleman  ! "  dropping  into  the  gravely 
confidential.  "  You  looked  so  dull  and  sulky  when  I  first 
saw  you  all  crooked  up  against  the  tree." 

At  the  water's  edge  she  stayed  me. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  you  will  take  cold  dabbling  in  the 
water  and  handling  damp  sand  ?  Robbie  came  near  having 
the  croup  last  week  because  he  played  in  the  well- trough  and 
got  his  apron  and  sleeves  all  wet.  You've  been  sick,  you 
know." 

"  I  will  be  very  careful,"  I  promised,  with  admirable  sc- 
dateness.  "  If  I  should  get  sick  you  can  come  and  nurse 
me." 

"  I  will ! "  she  engaged,  in  good  faith. 

Our  joint  labors  engrossed  all  our  energies  after  that.  A 
brave  fortification  grew  into  shape  and  just  proportions,  upon 
a  table-rock  we  dubbed,  at  my  suggestion,  Gibraltar.  There 
were  walls  and  a  moat,  and  a  birch-bark  drawbridge,  scarp, 
counter-scarp,  barbicans,  bomb-proofs,  and  towers  with  twig 
guns  cut  of  suitable  size  and  proportions  by  my  useful  pen- 
knife. The  barracks  within  the  defences  were  models  of 
compact  architecture.  Muskets  were  stacked  artistically  in 
the  court-yard,  and  a  few  sentinels,  whittled  out  of  pine 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  25 

sticks,  mounted  guard  stiffly  enough  in  convenient  proximity 
to  these. 

For  a  flag  we  had  to  content  ourselves  with  a  tall  stick 
topped  by  a  cardinal  flower. 

"It  is  magnissifent  1 "  cried  my  fellow-builder,  stepping 
back  some  paces  to  take  in  the  tout  ensemble.  "  I  thought 
I  could  build  tolerable  houses  and  things,  but  you  make  me 
ashamed  of  my  poor  little  affairs.  I  say  !  you  will  be  my 
friend,  won't  you  ?  And  come  down  here  every  day  for  a 
little  while  ?  You  see,"  coming  up  close  to  me,  taking  my 
hand  between  her  coaxing  fingers,  and  talking  very  fast,  "  I 
have  nobody  worth  talking  about  to  play  with.  Aunt  Evy  has 
gone  to  the  Springs  with  Uncle  George.  My  big  sister  is  too 
big,  even  when  she's  at  home,  and  my  big  brother  lives  away 
off  in  Cincinnati  and  has  got  a  baby  of  his  own.  Baby  Evy  is 
just  learning  to  walk,  and  Robby  is  only  two-and-a-half,  be- 
sides having  the  croup  and  can't  run  about  beceps  where  the 
ground  is  even  and  dry.  We  could  have  jolly  times — you 
and  me — and,  indeed,  I  will  be  ever  so  good." 

I  passed  my  hand  over  her  hair ;  searched  the  depths  of 
such  eyes  as  I  have  never  seen  in  another  face.  I  had 
scarcely  noticed  until  then  how  rarely  beautiful  they  were. 
Gray,  with  inky  rings  edging  the  irids  that  might  have  been 
the  encircling  shadow  of  the  long,  black  lashes,  they  were 
fathomless  springs  of  softness  and  light. 

"  Go  through  a  fellow 's  if  she  knowed  what  he  was  thinkin' 
about,  let  alone  what  he's  sayin',"  said  a  rough  yeoman  of 
them,  once. 
2 


2 6  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

A  page  of  word-painting  would  not  have  described  them 
better. 

They  enforced  a  truthful  answer  from  me,  free  from  equi- 
vocation and  banter. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  take  me  for  your  friend. 
Every  morning,  when  I  am  well  enough  and  the  weather  is 
pleasant,  I  will  be  here  to  meet  you." 

A  horn  rang  out  shrill  and  importunate  from  the  direction 
of  the  farm-house. 

I  pulled  out  my  watch  incredulously.  It  was  twelve 
o'clock. 


CHAPTER   II. 

AII.SIE     DARLING. 

FOUND,  next  morning,  a  less  precipitous  path 
from  the  Gaskiu  homestead  to  the  "  crick/' 
as  Ezra  called  it,  than  that  into  which  I  had 
stumbled  the  preceding  day.  It  was  a  faintly- 
worn  trail  winding  around  a  shoulder  of  Maple  Hill, 
and  skirting  the  water  for  some  distance  below  the 
trysting-rock.  Advancing  quietly  by  this,  I  perceived 
that  I  was  not  first  at  the  rendezvous,  and  was  at  my 
"  friend's  "  elbow  before  she  suspected  my  approach. 
She  was  bending  forward  with  a  sort  of  restrained 
eagerness  in  attitude  and  profile,  that  warned  me  not  to 
speak  or  move  abruptly.  Directly  beneath  Gibraltar  was  a 
miniature  cove,  deeper  and  darker  than  the  main  stream. 
Pendant  grasses  fringed  it,  and  the  stones  lining  it  were 
green  with  moss.  Beyond  was  a  patch  of  water-lilies.  Stoop- 
ing to  look  over  the  child's  head  at  whatever  it  might  be  that 
riveted  her  notice,  I  saw  the  reflection  of  her  intent  face 
upon  the  pool,  and  that  it  changed  as  mine  fell  beside  it. 
She  turned  partly  around,  hand  uplifted,  every  feature  alive 
with  excitement  and  welcome.  With  the  other  hand  she 
pointed  to  the  shadiest  recess  of  the  cove,  where  lay  a  fine 


28  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

\ 

brook-trout.  A  chance  pencil  of  light  refracted  by  the  spark- 
ling mirror  that  held  our  faces  in  almost  unwavering  lines, 
struck  athwart  his  spotted  back,  shimmered  down  his  silvery 
sides.  Green  moss  and  brown  opaline  water  were  the  back- 
ground on  which  he  shone  in  royal  beauty,  motionless  as  a 
painted  king  with  all  his  regalia  on. 

The  blood  tingled  to  my  fingers'  ends  as  I  fancied  what  it 
would  be  to  me — and  to  him — had  I  my  trusty  rod  in  hand. 
In  one  second  I  lived  through  it  all — the  poise,  the  throw,  the 
rise,  the  strike,  the  play — the  landing  !  My  breath  came  in  a 
quick,  sharp  respiration  that  cut  the  air  audibly.  The  mirror 
was  dashed  into  fragments  ;  the  gleam  of  living  jewels — or 
of  fire — shot  the  depths  of  the  pool.  Then,  through  the 
stilling  surface  we  saw  green  velvet  cushion  and  curtaining 
water,  vacant. 

"  You've  scared  him  away ! "  said  my  companion,  catch- 
ing her  breath  in  her  turn,  "  I've  been  watching  him  this  ever- 
so-long.  Wasn't  he  a  beauty  ?  " 

I  assented  heartily,  adding — "Do  you  often  see  that  kind 
of  fish  about  here  ?  " 

"You  won't  catch  them  if  I  say,  'Yes?'"  screwing  up 
one  side  of  her  face  in  a  teasing  grimace. 

"  I  do  not  promise  that.  Trout  were  made  to  be  Caught. 
You  like  to  eat  them,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  if  they  are  acquaintances  of  mine,  like  him,"  point- 
ing to  the  pool.  "  He  knows  me  quite  well.  He  wouldn't 
have  run  away  for — may-be — two  hours,  if  nobody  else  had 
come.  He  isn't  fond  of  strangers.  I'll  tell  you  something," 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE  29 

sinking  her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper.  "  He  is  a  fairy 
prince,  changed  to  a  fish  by  a  wicked  fairy.  At  the  end  of  a 
hundred  days,  a  good  fairy  will  come  along,  and  touch  him 
with  her  wand,  and  he  will  jump  out  of  the  water  in  a  white 
satin  coat  all  buttoned  up  with  scarlet  diamonds, — didn't  you 
see  them  ?  a  double  row  ! " 

"What  if  I  should  be  the  good  fairy?  "  I  suggested.  "I 
have  a  magic  wand,  bound  and  tipped  with  silver,  almost 
long  enough  to  reach  across  this  creek,  that  I  am  positive 
would  bring  him,  at  one  leap,  to  land." 

She  had  started  up,  and  away  from  me,  red  indignation 
upon  brow  and  neck. 

"  If  you  do  !  if  you  do  ! "  she  protested,  stamping  her  foot, 
and  eyeing  me  with  aversion.  "  I  will  never  forgive  you, 
never  !  never ! " 

The  tears  rushed  up  and  put  out  the  fires.  She  collapsed 
into  a  heap  upon  the  grass,  sobbing  that  she  had  not  be- 
lieved I  could  be  so  cruel !  and  to  Rer  precious  tame  trout  that 
knew  and  loved  her  !  She  thought  I  looked  good  and  kind. 

"  My  dear  little  friend,"  I  was  fain  to  plead  on  bended 
knee,  "  listen  to  me !  If  you  will  stop  crying,  I  will  promise 
neverto  fish  in  this  pool,  or  on  this  side  of  the  stream, 
another  time.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

She  nodded  behind  the  white  apron,  now  nearly  wet 
through. 

"  Tell  all  your  particular  acquaintances  among  the  trout 
to  wear  a  pink  ribbon  around  their  throats  when  they  go 
out  walking." 


30  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

She  laughed  between  her  sobs. 

"  Fish  don't  walk.  They  swim.  They  are  not  ampher- 
bus  like  bullfrogs." 

"  When  they  go  out  swimming,  then,  and  I  will  never  try 
to  catch  them — only  touch  my  hat  to  them  and  go  on." 

Down  went  the  apron,  and  she  was  rummaging  in  her 
pocket,  drawing  out,  first  a  handkerchief,  next  a  doll's  cape, 
some  printed  slips  cut  from  newspapers,  a  stumpy  cedar  pencil, 
a  pair  of  blunt-edged  scissors,  finally  a  slender  roll  of  paper, 
from  which  she  carefully  extracted  the  object  she  sought. 

"  See  what  I  have !  Mamma  gave  me  the  ribbon.  I 
made  the  flag  all  by  my  lone  self!  " 

I  could  credit  it  when  I  examined  the  treasure — two 
square  inches  of  red,  white  and  blue  ribbon,  put  together 
with  an  unnecessary  quantity  of  irregular  stitches,  and 
fastened  more  securely  than  neatly  to  an  old  knitting-needle. 
I  praised  the  tri-color  warmly,  and  we  sealed  our  reconcilia- 
tion by  planting  it  upon  the  chief  tower  of  Gibraltar,  in 
place  of  the  withered  cardinal  flower. 

"  It  took  me  an  immense  time  to  make  it !  "  observed  the 
seamstress  surveying  it  with  intensest  complacency.  "  And 
how  I  did  prick  my  fingers  !  " 

Indeed,  as  I  now  perceived,  there  were  many 
dotting  the  seams,  indicating  these  as  the  line  of  battle. 

"  Mary  bothered  me,  asking  what  I  was  making.  As  if  I 
would  tell  her  !  Such  a  chatterbox  as  that  girl  is  !  I  think, 
sometimes,  she  will  wear  me  out  entirely  !  Do  you  always 
do  as  you'd  be  done  by?" 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  31 

"  Not  always,  I  am  afraid,"  confessed  I  meekly. 
"  Nor  I  neither,"  in  ingenuous  discouragement.     "  Yet  I 
suppose  everybody  ought  to  ;  for, 

"  You  know,  my  dear,  the  Bible  says 

That  you  should  always  do 
To  others  as  you  would  that  they 
Should  likewise  do  to  you." 

She  chanted  it  in  a  nasal  sing-song,  suggestive  of  disgust 
with  the  lame  machinery  of  the  "  poem,"  or  weariness  of 
having  heard  it  so  often. 

"  Sounds  easy — don't  it  ?  Maybe  you'd  better  try  it,  that's 
all." 

To  win  her  from  the  inclement  mood  into  which  she  was 
likely  to  lapse  if  one  might  judge  from  tone  and  pout,  I 
asked  :  "  Do  you  like  to  learn  verses  ?  " 

"To  read  poetry,  do  you  mean?  Better  than  anything 
else  under  the  sun  !  Would  you  mind  my  telling  you  some- 
thing I  was  saying  to  myself,  when  you  came  just  now  ?  I 
found  it  in  one  of  mamma's  books.  There  are  lots  of  other 
beautiful  pieces  in  there.  Its  just  the  very  picture  of  my 
pond  here,  if  you  make  believe  a  little  in  some  parts  of  it. 
Listen  if  it  isn't!" 

She  was  upon  her  feet,  her  electric  face  shining  and  quiver- 
ing, one  foot  braced  against  a  projection  of  the  rock  over- 
hanging the  pool.  Her  hat  had  been  tossed  upon  the 
ground,  and  her  very  hair  seemed  to  gleam  and  stir  with  her 
animated  action. 


32  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

I  had  expected  a  jingle  of  nursery  rhymes — Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld  at  the  best ;  but  to  my  astonishment  she  rushed  into 
Percival's  "  Coral  Grove  : " 

"Deep  in  the  waves  is  a  coral  grove 
Where  the  purple  mullet  and  gold-fish  rove. 

("  Trout's  all  the  same,  you  know.  'Least  'twill  do  just  as 
well,  only  'twouldn't  have  come  out  right  in  the  verse,  I  sup- 
pose.) 

There  the  sea-flower  spreads  its  leaves  of  blue 

That  never  are  wet  with  falling  dew, 

But  in  bright  and  changeful  beauty  shine 

Far  down  in  the  green  and  glassy  brine. 

("  Isn't  that  exactly  like  ?  Right  down  there — don't  you 
see  ?  where  my  prince  was  lying  ?) 

The  floor  is  of  sand,  like  the  mountain  drift 
And  the  pearl-shells  spangle  the  flinty  snow — 

("That  isn't  quite  so  true,  for  mine  has  green  and  brown 
stones  in  the  bottom.  But  only  hear  this  !) 

The  water  is  calm  and  still  below 

For  the  winds  and  waves  are  absent  there, 
And  the  sands  are  bright  as  the  stars  that  glow 

In  the  mo-ti-on-less  fields  of  upper  air. 
There,  with  its  waving  blades  of  green, 

The  sea-flag  streams  through  the  silent  water, 
And  the  crimson  leaf  of  the  dulse  is  seen 

To  blush  like  a  banner  bathed  in  slaughter — 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  33 

("  I  knew  how  to  per-nounce  that  word  because  it  rhymes 
with  'water.') 

There— 
(swinging  her  arm  to-and-fro) 

— with  a  light  and  easy  motion 
The  fan-coral  sweeps  through  the  clear,  deep  sea, 

And  the  yellow  and  scarlet  tufts  of  ocean 
Are  bending  like  corn  on  the  upland  lea. 

("  Oh  !  can't  you  see  them  when  you  shut  your  eyes  !  ") 
She  closed  hers,  clasped  her  hands,  and  swayed  gently  from 
side  to  side,  while  reciting  the  next  four  lines,  her  rapt  face 
raised  to  the  sunlight. 

"  And  life  in  rare  and  beautiful  forms 

Is  sporting  amid  those  bowers  of  stone, 
And  is  safe  when  the  wrathful  spirit  of  storms 

Has  made  the  top  of  the  waves  his  own. 
And— 

(throwing  both  arms  widely  abroad,  her  eyes  dark  and  fore- 
head frowning) 

— when  the  ship  from  his  fury  flies 
And  the  my-ri-ad  voices  of  ocean  roar, 
When  the  wind -god  frowns  in  the  murky  skies 

And  demons  are  waiting  the  wreck  on  shore, — • 
Then— 

("  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  exquisiter  than  this?  "  sinking 
her  voice  almost  to  a  whisper,  and  caressing  each  syllable  as 
it  glided  from  her  lips — ) 


34  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

— far  below  in  the  peaceful  sea 
The  purple  mullet  and  gold-fish  rove, 
Where  the  waters  murmur  tranquilly 

Through  the  bending  twigs  of  the  coral  grove." 

She  sat  down  fairly  spent  with  excitement,  but  radiant,  and 
fell  to  work,  brushing  out,  with  a  hemlock  twig,  the  sand 
that  had  slidden  from  the  wall  of  the  fortress  into  the  moat. 

"  That's  what  1  call  poetry !  none  of  your  babyish  non- 
sense ! " 

"  I  call  it  poetry,  too,  and  of  the  finest  kind,"  replied  I, 
as  naturally  as  I  could,  while  scrutinizing  her  with  a  ming- 
ling of  admiration  and  apprehension.  The  creature  was  un- 
canny, while  she  stood  on  the  rock ;  possessed,  shaken, 
rarefied  (I  mean  it,  for  she  reminded  me  of  luminous  air) 
by  the  spirit  of  poesy,  absolutely  seeing,  "  when  she  shut  her 
eyes,"  all  that  the  words  portrayed.  There  had  been  tears 
on  her  lashes  as  she  concluded.  One  had  rolled  from  her 
cheek  to  the  hand  holding  the  hemlock  broom.  Yet  in  less 
time  than  it  took  her  to  twinkle  them  away,  she  was  again 
very  child,  intent  upon  her  playthings,  the  rare  and  beauteous 
forms  of  ocean-life  forgotten  in  the  temporary  solicitude  of 
keeping  the  mimic  trenches  clean. 

I  made  an  effort  to  revive  the  vanished  fire. 

"  Did  you  say  that  you  learned  poetry  for  yourself?  Can 
you  read  ?  " 

Her  eyes  were  stretched  wide  in  haughty  surprise. 

"I — should — hope — so!"  emphatically  slow.  "Why,  I 
was  six  years  old  last  Christmas- Eve,  and  I  could  read  any- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  35 

where  in  the  Bible  by  the  time  1  was  five.  That  is — 'most 
anywhere — beceps,  of  course,  those  chapters  full  of  jaggedy 
words  in  Chronikillers  and  Deut-er-er-on-o-my  ;  I  never  could 
understand  why  they  were  put  into  the  Bible.  I'm  glad  I 
wasn't  one  of  the  men  who  had  to  write  those  parts.  No — 
nor  the  first  chapter  of  Matthew.  But  people  had  learned 
how  to  be  sensibler  about  such  things  before  they  wrote  the 
New  Testament.  There  are  only  two  chapters  of  names  in 
it  I " 

11  Who  taught  you  all  this  ?" 

"  How  to  read — do  you  mean  ?  Mamma,  most  times — 
sometimes,  Aunt  Evy  ;  I  read  and  spell  to  Aunt  Evy  every 
day  when  we  are  at  home.  Papa  did  not  quite  like  my  learn- 
ing to  read,  but  mamma  was  obliged  to  let  me  do  it — I  was 
such  a  restless  mischief  when  I  was  little.  When  I  am  eight 
years  old,  I  am  to  begin  French  and  music,  she  says.  Papa 
doesn't  approve  of  any  kind  of  lessons  for  me,  I  believe.  I 
don't  know  why." 

I  imagined  that  I  did,  and  altogether  "approved"  of 
papa's  judgment. 

The  moat  was  cleared  by  this  time,  and  the  flag  stood 
"  straight  out,"  as  she  said  satisfiedly,  partly  because  there  was 
a  slight  breeze,  chiefly  because  its  "  set"  upon  the  pole  was 
such  that  it  could  not  have  drooped  in  a  dead  calm.  All 
having  been  pronounced  ship-shape  at  the  fort,  my  restless 
little  dryad  forthwith  produced  from  her  teeming  brain  the 
"  splendidest  plan  that  had  popped  into  her  head  last  night." 

We  were  to  build  a  bower  in  the  woods  and  "  maybe — who 


36  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

knows? — live  there  altogether  some  day.  In  case  grandpa's 
house  were  to  burn  down,  or  blow  over — or  be  anything- 
elsed.  'Tenny  rate  'twould  be  derlicious  in  hot  weather." 
She  "had  heard  of  countries  where  people  lived  in  bush- 
houses  the  year  round — for  all  the  world,  like  a  picnic."  There 
was  a  picture  in  a  book,  at  home,  of  a  Bunyan  tree.  Or 
was  that  the  name  of  the  man  that  wrote  "  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress" in  jail  for  preaching  the  gospel?  Any  way,  it  was 
something  like  that.  A  tree,  where  the  roots  grew  all  the 
way  down  from  the  limbs.  'Twas  too  comical  to  see  the 
little  ones  that  had  just  started  down  !  And  people  were 
cooking  dinner  and  sleeping  and  dancing  and  saying  their 
prayers  under  them  as  comfortable  and  cunning  as  could  be. 
There  was  a  grape-vine  back  there,  on  the  hill,  that  looked 
exactly  like  a  what-do-you-call-it  tree.  Would  it  tire  me  to 
step  up  and  look  at  it  ? 

Of  course  I  went ;  equally  of  course,  I  lent  my  advice,  my 
long  legs  and  arms,  and  my  knife,  to  the  enterprise  of  con- 
verting a  Yankee  grape-vine  wandering  over  a  tough 
mountain-ash  into  the  similitude  of  an  Indian  banyan.  I  per- 
suaded myself  that  I  got  a  crick  in  the  neck  and  aches  in 
shoulders  and  back  out  of  lazy  good-nature  ;  that  I  was  too 
inert  to  cross  the  eager  petitioner.  I  believe  now,  that  I 
should  have  tried  to  heave  ton  boulders  into  the  creek  had 
she  expressed  a  wish  to  have  a  stone  bridge  built  across  to 
the  other  side,  so  beguiled  was  I  already  by  her  witching  im- 
perialism. She  worked  harder  than  I  did,  picking  up  and 
bearing  away  the  cut  boughs  as  they  dropped  under  my  knife. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  37 

There  were  gaps  in  the  roof  and  sides,  which  the  inconsider- 
ate vine  had  neglected  to  cover.  It  was  necessary  that  \ve 
should  remedy  the  defects  in  Nature's  architecture,  by  weav- 
ing otherwise  useless  streamers  across  the  apertures,  and 
binding  them  in  their  new  places,  if  we  would  have  our  bower 
even  sun-tight,  to  say  nothing  of  its  ability  to  shed  the  rain. 

Out  from  her  wonderful  pocket  came  a  bunch  of  string, 
without  which  she  had  foreseen  that  "  we  could  not  possibly 
get  along."  She  "  could  hold  the  branches  while  I  tied  them." 
I  could  not  hint  at,  scarcely  think  of  fatigue,  while  the  earn- 
est little  face  was  upturned  to  note  each  step  in  the  opera- 
tion, and  the  lights  through  the  shaken  vines  danced  over  it. 
She  spoke  but  seldom,  while  we  were  actually  at  work,  hold- 
ing the  stems  with  firm  fingers  and  as  firm  a  set  of  the  child- 
ish features  that  meant  business,  and  business  alone.  Dome 
and  walls  finished,  I  was  bidden  to  rest  awhile  upon  "the 
seat " — a  big  stone,  so  near  to  the  ash  that  I  could  find  in  its 
trunk  some  relief  to  my  strained  spinal  column. 

She  stood,  regarding  me,  for  a  moment,  in  sorrowful  sur- 
prise, divining  from  my  countenance  and  motions  that  I  had 
over-exerted  myself. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  asked  you  to  build  the  bower  to-day,"  she 
said  gently. 

"  It  has  not  hurt  me ;  I  shall  be  all  right  again,  directly." 

"If  you  wouldn't  mind  lending  me  your  knife/'  she  re- 
sumed, persuasively.  "  I  will  be  careful  not  to  break  or  lose  it." 

"  Don't  cut  your  fingers  !"  was  my  caution  in  passing  it 
over ;  "  it  is  very  sharp." 


38  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  It  would  be  good-for-nothing  if  it  was  dull." 
With  that,  she  retired  from  sight,  but  not  out  of  hearing. 
I  was  willing  to  rest.  I  was  really  very  tired,  and  the  June 
day  was  slumberous.  There  was  a  plantation  of  young  hem- 
locks and  pines  hard  by,  and  the  warm  air  extracted  their 
resins  to  blend  with  the  smell  of  the  bleeding  grape-vine  and 
trampled  ferns.  The  ripple  and  tinkle  of  the  water  were 
soothing,  not  dulling,  as  on  yesterday.  A  rustling  in  the 
thickets  on  my  left,  and  the  sound  of  a  child's  voice  singing 
low,  but  very  sweetly  to  herself,  told  me  that  I  was  not  in  a 
sylvan  solitude.  The  rustling  came  nearer,  now  and  then,  and 
I  was  drowsily  aware  that  some  sort  of  forest  upholstery  was 
going  on  at  the  back  of  the  booth,  and  that  the  sweet  croon- 
ing was  intermitted  when  the  mistress  of  the  bower  entered, 
— chiming  in  again  with  the  lullaby  of  the  water,  when  she 
withdrew  in  the  direction  of  the  evergreen  covert.  By-and- 
by,  I  aroused  myself  to  hearken  to  snatches  of  what  she 
warbled.  It  was  one  tune,  sung  again  and  again,  shaping 
itself,  sometimes,  into  words,  then  subsiding  into  a  musical 
murmur;  again,  ceasing  suddenly,  as  she  tugged  at,  or  cut 
into  the  twigs  she  gathered.  It  was  not  a  child's  song.  I 
learned,  later  in  our  acquaintanceship,  that  it  was  a  favorite  of 
"  Aunt  Evy's,"  and  that  the  little  niece  had  liked  it  the  more 
after  happening  upon  the  words  in  that  "one  of  mamma's 
books"  which  had  also  given  her  the  "  Coral  Grove." 

"  Faintly  flow,  them  falling  river, 
Like  a  dream  that  dies  away, 
Down  the  ocean  gliding — " 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  39 

The  hummed  cadence  flowed  on,  but  the  breeze  gave  me  no 
words  until  another  visit  was  made  to  the  bower,  and  the  fleet 
footsteps  went  back  to  the  hemlock  plantation. 

"  Roses  bloom  and  then  they  wither, 
Cheeks  are  bright,  then  fade  and  die." 

"  Fade  and  die  !  Fade  and  die  ! "  The  echoes  from  the 
opposite  bank  took  up  the  strain,  repeating  faithfully  a  pe- 
culiar undulating  cadenza  with  which  the  second  line  ended, 
the  sound  melting  into  the  silences  of  the  distance  upon  the 
word  "  die,"  with  an  effect  I  remembered  for  many  a  day 
thereafter.  I  waited  for  the  recurrence  of  this  passage  with 
pensive  pleasure,  straining  my  ears  to  hearken  for  the  faint- 
est vibration  of  the  summer  air,  among  the  hills  on  either 
side  of  the  gorge,  yet  without  a  thought  of  the  "  drifting  out " 
that  had  been  the  refrain  of  heart  and  pulses  yesterday. 

Not  that  I  was  awakening  from  the  lethargic  reaction 
which  was  the  dregs  of  the  fever.  This  I  would  not  admit, 
so  obstinate  had  been  my  persuasion  that  I  could  never  again 
be  quite  alive.  But  I  did  acknowledge  that  I  had  turned  in 
my  sleep ;  that  the  gentle  relaxation  of  the  system  after  my 
recent  exercise  was  some  removes  from  the  lassitude  I  had 
been  content  should  swallow  up  will  and  energy.  Perhaps 
it  was  one  of  the  delights  of  convalescence  of  which  doctors 
and  friends  had  prated  to  me. 

A  hand  touched  my  arm ;  warm,  pure  breath  fanned  my 
cheek. 


40  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"Won't  you  sit  on  the  sofa?  It  is  ever  so  much  softer 
than  that  rough  old  rock." 

Which  had  been  "our  seat/'  a  little  while  before. 

The  indefatigable  dryad  had  clipped  and  piled  pine  and 
hemlock  twigs  into  a  mound  at  that  side  of  the  bower  facing 
the  entrance  and  the  creek.  It  was  an  elastic,  fragrant  cush- 
ion I  was  ashamed  to  rest  upon  when  I  remarked  her  flushed 
face,  and  hair  damp  with  perspiration. 

"  How  you  have  worked  ! "  I  said,  in  self-reproachful 
gratitude,  "  I  did  not  dream  that  you  were  doing  this  for  me. 
I  thought  you  were  playing." 

"  It  was  better  than  playing  ! "  the  white  teeth  shining  in 
her  glee  as  she  capered  around  me,  too  much  elated  to  keep 
still  for  a  second.  "  I  heard  papa  and  Uncle  George  talk- 
ing about  the  lumbermen's  beds,  away  off  in  Maine,  and  I 
said  to  myself  then  that  I  would  try  to  make  one,  some  day. 
Wasn't  it  lucky  that  high  stump  came  to  be  just  there,  to 
make  a  back  for  the  sofa  ?  But "  stopping  short  in  her  waltz 
and  joyous  talk,  and  sinking  into  plaintive  regrets — "  I 
couldn't  get  near  enough  for  a  bed.  Though  I  did  cut  all  I 
could  reach.  And  the  lounge  is  very  short." 

"We  will  call  it  a  tabouret.  That  means  a  small  sofa. 
There  is  plenty  of  room  for  you  and  me,"  drawing  her  gently 
to  my  side.  "And  we  don't  expect  company  yet  awhile — 
not  until  we  are  fairly  settled  to  housekeeping." 

"Not  anytime!"  she  protested.  "Becepspapa.  He's 
coming  on  Saturday." 

That  "beceps"  always  provoked  me  to  a  smile.     It  was  a 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  41 

singular  slip  of  the  nimble  tongue,  and  reminded  me,  as  did 
her  valiant  but  sometimes  ineffectual  wrestle  with  polysylla- 
bles, what  a  baby  she  was  in  age  and  size.  Yet  I  did  not 
put  my  arm  about  her  when  she  nestled  down  by  me  on  the 
tabouret.  If  I  had,  I  was  as  positive  then  as  after  I  knew 
her  better,  that  she  would  have  arisen  and  walked  away. 
There  was  a  delicacy  of  dignity  in  her  bearing  and  look,  with 
all  her  freedom  of  speech,  that  would  have  taught  the  rudest 
boor  to  respect  her  inborn  ladyhood.  It  may  sound  absurd 
when  one  takes  into  consideration  her  "  six  years  last  Christ- 
mas Eve,"  and  my  manly  majority,  already  twenty-four  hours 
old,  but  I  would  not  have  dared  take  her  on  my  knee,  or 
kiss  her.  The  right  to  hold  her  hand  or  stroke  her  hair  was 
the  utmost  extent  of  familiarity  that  would  have  been  vouch- 
safed to  her  chosen  "  friend,"  at  this  stage  of  our  intercourse. 
Fortunately  for  the  perpetuity  of  our  intimacy  I  gleaned  this 
fact  from  intuition.  I  have  seen  her  teach  the  lesson  to 
others  by  the  manifestation  of  hauteur  they  could  not  mistake 
for  a  childish  freak. 

"  He  spends  much  of^his  time  in  town,  does  he  not?  "  I 
asked  after  her  last  observation. 

"  All  the  week  from  Monday  morning  till  Saturday  at  din- 
ner-time. It  is  perfectly  dreadful !  I  thought,  at  first,  that  I 
couldn't  possibly  live  through  it.  It's  bad  enough  now." 

"  You  love  him  very  dearly,  then  ?  " 

"  Love  him  !  I  would  be  burned  up  alive,  chopped  into 
little  bits  with  a  hatchet,  and  never  say  a  word — if  he  wanted 
me  to,  or  it  would  do  him  any  good  ! " 


42  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

She  uttered  it  in  a  subdued  tone,  without  gesture,  but  the 
concentrated  passion  of  a  woman's  heart  was  in  the  intense 
face.  I  pray  never  to  see  it  in  another  as  young.  I  shivered, 
— and  chided  the  ridiculous  fancies  that  made  me  do  it  the 
next  second. 

"  That  would  be  the  last  thing  he  would  want  you  to  do,"  I 
returned,  jocularly.  "  You  could  not  love  him,  if  it  were 
possible  for  him  to  be  so  cruel." 

"  I  should  love  papa  if  he  beat  me  to  death.  Like  the 
little  boy  ofAn-ti-och  I  read  of  in  the  History  of  the  Martyrs. 
They  whipped  him  until  he  died,  because  he  loved  Jesus.  It 
was  a  rough  way  of  getting  to  heaven,  but  I  don't  suppose 
that  mattered  much  after  he  got  there,  and  it  didn't  last  long. 
My  papa  is  never  cruel  to  anybody,  and  he  loves  me  almost 
as  much  as  I  do  him — "  returning  to  the  livelier  theme. 
"He  is  the  very  bestest  man  ever  was.  I  am  going  to 
marry  him  when  I  am  grown  !  " 

"  Marry  him  !  "  I  echoed  laughing. 

She  caught  me  up,  defiantly 

"  Course  I  shall !  I  must  have  a  husband,  you  know,  and  I 
love  him  a  thousand  times  better  than  I  ever  can  anybody 
else.  Mamma  will  be  getting  sort  of  old  by  that  time,  and 
he  will  want  me  to  ride  and  walk  with  him." 

"  But  won't  he  be  getting  old,  himself,  too  ?" 

"  Papa !  He's  so  big  and  strong,  I  think  he'll  live  a  hun- 
dred years.  I  hope  so,  or  that  GOD  will  let  me  die  when  he 
does.  I've  often  thought  that  would  be  a  nice  plan,  for  all 
of  a  family  to  die  in  a  bunch,  and  there  wouldn't  be  anybody 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  43 

left  to  be  sorry.  My  sister  Minnie  died,  oh,  a  long  time  ago, 
and  mamma  takes  me  in  her  lap  now,  on  Sunday  evenings, 
and  talks  to  me  about  her,  and  the  tears  roll  down  her  face 
to  mine,  without  her  knowing  that  she  is  crying." 

This  appeared  to  my  inexperience  an  unwise  indulgence 
of  maternal  grief,  when  the  recipient  of  the  sacred  confidence 
was  the  sensitive,  imaginative  daughter  who  already  talked 
of  the  Martyr's  agony  as  a  short  road  to  heaven,  and  of 
death  as  preferable  to  bereavement. 

I  broke  the  chain  of  conversation  with  a  snap. 

"  This  is  Thursday,  and  as  papa  does  not  come  until  Satur- 
day, I  shall  hope  to  see  you  here  to-morrow.  It  is  time  I 
was  going  up  to  my  dinner,  now,  if  I  do  not  want  Mrs.  Gas- 
kin  to  scold  about  my  being  late.  Mamma  will  be  wonder- 
ing where  you  are,  too.  Good-bye.  Isn't  it  queer  that  we  have 
not  thought  to  ask  one  another's  names  ?  Mine  is  Barry 
Haye." 

"  My  name  is  Ailsie,"  she  returned  in  prompt  simplicity. 

"  Elsie  ?  "  I  repeated. 

"  No,  A,  i,  1,  s,  i,  e  !  Mamma  had  a  dear  friend  whose  father 
was  a  Scotchman,  and  I  was  named  for  her.  Papa  is  Mr. 
Darling.  So,  I  am  Ailsie  Darling." 


CHAPTER  III. 

RAIN   UPON   THE    ROOF. 

T  was  colorless  light,  and  late  in  coming,  that 
crept  through  the  windows  of  my  eastward 
chamber  on  Friday  morning.     The  sauce  pi- 
guante  of  Ezra' s  breakfast  was  the  gratulation, 
•»/     oft-repeated  and  dwelt  upon   with  much  chuckling 
and  smacking  of  lips,  that  "  the  early  hay  in  Squire's 
south  medder  he'd  been  so  stuck-up  about,  was  cut 
yestidday,  every  spear  on  it,"  while  his — Ezra's, — 
j  f       would  not  be  ready  for   the  scythe  "  afore  middle 

o'  next  week." 

"  Thaf  s  what  comes  o'  book  farming,"  responded  his 
helpmeet.  "To  hear  Squire  talk  you'd  think  ther'  was  a 
year  o'  corn  into  every  grain  o'  dust  if  a  person  would 
only  read  up  faithful  on  agricultoore,  and  chimistry  and  sech- 
like  fol-de-rols.  Its  jist  as  well  he  should  be  learned  a  lesson 
by  the  ways  o'  Providence,  wunst  in  a  while.  He  has  it 
easy  enough,  a  sight  too  easy  for  growth  in  grace,  most 
times." 

" '  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner  and  the  ass  his  master's 
crib  ! '  piped  the  grand-dame,  mumbling  and  mouthing  over 
her  "  rye  'n  Injun  "  mess.  "  Deary  me  !  my  jints  ache  like 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  45 

'twas  going  to  be  Tallin'  weather.  And  the  smoke  drawed 
down  the  kitchen  chimbley  for  quite  a  spell  this  rnornin'. 
How's  the  wind,  Ezry  ?" 

"  Straight  out  east.  Couldn't  be  wuss  fur  them  as  is  foru'd 
with  their  grass.  All  sorts  o'  signs  of  all-day  rain.  Look  at 
the  chickens,"  pointing  through  a  window  that  commanded 
an  unappetizing  view  of  the  barn-yard.  "  If  ever  you  see  'em 
a-stragglin'  'round  regardless-like  on  a  dampish  mornin'  like 
this,  look  out  for  a  stiddy  rain,  and  'bundance  of  it.  'What's 
the  odds  ? '  sez  Mr.  Chicken.  '  I'm  bound  for  to  git  my 
feathers  wet  afore  this  'ere  job  is  through  with.  Mought 
jist's  well  take  it  easy  and  git  my  pickin's  reg*lar  'cording  to 
custom.'  That's  about  the  ticket,  Mr.  Haye." 

I  had  not  seen  him  so  facetious  before  since  my  arrival 
at  his  house.  His  play  of  wit  seemed  to  astonish  and  ex- 
hilarate himself.  He  laughed  boisterously,  and  shook  his 
fist  toward  the  window  with  the  next  sentence  : 

"There's  the  first  drops,  sure's  you're  born  and  I  ain't  a 
teapot!  What's  the  time  o'  day,  ma?"  his  pet  name  for 
the  wife  who  had  never  borne  him  a  child.  "  Seven-an-a- 
quarter,  sure 's  gun's  iron!  I  sed  so!  'Rain  afore  seven, 
clear  afore  'leven,'  is  a  rule  what  works  both  ways.  Another 
cup  o'  coffee,  ma.  Seein'  as  how  my  grass  ain't  down  I 
kin  take  life  comfortable." 

The  extent  to  which  he  gloated  over  his  neighbor's  dis- 
comfiture and  his  own  immunity  from  damage  was  equally 
novel  and  revolting  to  me.  I  did  a  little  sum  in  mental  and 
moral  arithmetic  while  I  turned  the  square  inch  of  horny 


4<5  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

steak,  fried  in  lard,  that  graced  the  centre  of  my  plate,  in  quest 
of  a  corner  vulnerable  to  knife,  and,  problematically,  to 
teeth.  If  the  wetting  of  one  field  of  the  Squire's  hay  afford- 
ed him  such  exquisite  enjoyment,  how  near  to  the  seventh 
heaven  would  the  destruction  of  the  prosperous  man's  house 
and  barns  by  lightning,  and  the  death  of  his  family  "  in  a 
bunch,"  as  Ailsie  put  it,  raise  the  excellent  Christian  with  the 
Old  Testament  praenomen  ?  In  my  comparative  ignorance 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  genus  Rusticus,  I  was  so  foolish 
as  to  fancy  that  such  outspoken  and  malicious  envy  had  its 
root  in  a  personal  or  family  feud.  I  was  to  find  out  at  my 
leisure  and  to  my  bewilderment  that  prosperity,  especially 
the  affluence  which  is  the  result  of  intelligent  enterprise,  is 
always  a  noisome  stench  in  Hodge's  nostrils,  and  resented  as 
a  pointed  reflection  upon  his  estate  of  intellectual  and 
social  underlinghood,  which  cannot  be  condoned  or  for- 
given. 

"  Squire's  a  main  smart  man,"  maundered  the  old  mother, 
with  the  fatal  facility  possessed  in  a  supereminent  degree  by 
superannuated  grandmothers  of  saying  the  wrong  thing  in  the 
nick  of  time.  "  A  proper  nice  man.  So's  his  wife.  Emily 
Barrow  she  was.  Ther*  ain't  no  sech  purty  girls  these  days  as 
trier*  used  to  was.  Well,  well !  Time  flies  and  the  poor  ye 
have  always  with  you.  She  come  of  a  prime  family,  did  Em'ly. 
I  guess  none  on  'em  '11  disgrace  the  name.  She  allus  had  a 
bright  eye  in  her  head,  and  a  sweet  word  in  her  mouth — had 
Em'ly." 

"  Ther*  ain't  many  things  easier  did  nor  to  be  pious  'n 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  47 

pop'lar  when  a  person's  got  both  their  pockets  full,"  pro- 
nounced her  son. 

"  Nor  to  carry  yer  head  high  when  you  hain't  never  hed 
no  trouble  to  bring  it  low,"  was  his  wife's  appendix.  "  I 
hain't  no  opinion  of  high-flyers,  no  matter  how  civil-spoken 
they  be.  '  A  haughty  sperrit  before  a  fall.'  Ther"  ain't  one 
of  them  Darlings  but  is  too  high-strung  for  comfort." 

"  '  Man  is  born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,'  " 
quoted  the  irrelevant  grand-dame. 

The  Gaskin  memory  was  an  arsenal  of  Scripture  texts, 
used  more  frequently  in  the  devil's  work  of  "all  uncharita- 
bleness  "  than  in  any  other. 

"  The  Darlings  ! "  The  obnoxious  Squire  was  probably  the 
"  Grandpapa  "  at  whose  house  Ailsie  was  spending  the  sum- 
mer. I  checked  my  motion  to  quit  the  table  and  give  up 
the  matutinal  meal  as  an  ignominious  failure ;  helped  myself 
to  another  mottled  saleratus  biscuit  and  kept  my  ears  open. 
My  meeting  with  Ailsie  had  been  the  only  break  in  the  dreary 
calm  of  my  country  sojourn,  and  whatever  related  to  her 
family  history  could  not  be  devoid  of  interest.  Even  the 
backbiting  chit-chat  of  the  trio,  while  it  tended  Darlingward, 
was  some  variety  in  the  boredom  of  a  rainy  day  in- doors. 

"Ther's  the  oldest  son — Pressley — now.  But  maybe  you 
know  him,  Mr.  Haye  ?  "  The  hostess  suspended  her  scal- 
pel pending  the  appeal  to  me.  "Anyway,  its  likely  you 
must  'a'  heard  of  Pressley  Darling,  livin'  in  the  same  city. 
He's  somethin'  in  the  hullsale  line — I  can't  rightly  say  what. 
I  think,  though,  its  woollings." 


48  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"West  Ingy  merchant  and  emporter !  "  corrected  her  hus- 
band. "That's  as  nigh  as  wimmen  gits  to  most  things." 

I  was  learning  another  thing  about  underbred  ignoramuses, 
and  may  jot  it  down  here  as  a  rule  of  universal  application 
so  far  as  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  judging.  The  less  a 

man  knows,  of  and  for  himself — the  more  nearly  he  approx- 

• 

imates  the  reasoning  faculties  of  the  lower  animals — the  more 
contemptuous  is  his  estimate  of  the  mental  powers  of  women, 
especially  of  those  belonging  by  the  accident  of  birth,  or  the 
blunder  of  marriage,  to  his  bestial  estate. 

"  Ezry  don't  set  no  kind  o'  store  by  women,"  observed  his 
mother,  with  a  feeble  giggle.  "  His  sainted  pa  was  jest  so — 
allers !  But  as  I  tell  'em  when  they're  too  hard  with  us,  men 
would  make  a  poor  shift  'thout  us,  come  feedin'  time.  Ah, 
well !  Holdin'  faith  and  a  good  conscience.  Thafs  the 
p'int,  Mr.  Haynes.  My  poor  mother  used  to  say  the  same 
thing  when  she  was  alive,  jest  the  same.  She  was  a  good 
woman,  my  mother  was.  Ther's  nothin'  truer  than  that  they 
shall  run  that  read,  Mr.  Haynes." 

"  Mr.  Haye,  mother  !  "  said  the  shrewish  daughter-in-law. 
"And  between  you  and  Ezry,  he  hain't  had  no  chance  to 
answer  my  question." 

I  made  reply  that  I  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  Mr.  Press- 
ley  Darling  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  but  that  the  city 
was  a  large  place  in  which  we  might  both  live  for  many  years 
without  meeting. 

"  Guess  he  ain't  sech  a  big  bug  as  he'd  hev  people  think," 
grunted  the  gratified  Ezra.  "For  all  he  swells  'round  so 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  49 

when  he  comes  to  the  country.  A  tadpole  '11  make  more 
splash  in  a  mud-puddle  than  a  bull-frog  will  into  a  mill-pond. 
It's  likely  you'll  run  agin  him  somewheres  this  summer.  He 
ain't  nowise  sociable  with  us  plain  folks,  but  he  may  pay  you 
some  'tendon,  seein'  you're  one  of  his  kind-like.  The  hull 
kit  'n'  boozle  on  'em  air  stayin'  to  the  Squire's  for  quite  a 
spell." 

>     "  Hev  you  found  out  yit  whether  they're  payin'  board  or 
not  ?  "  questioned  the  wife  eagerly. 

"  Stan's  to  reason  they'd  orter,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  was 
kinder  soundin'  Jabe  Wyckoff  'bout  it,  last  night.  He's  been 
workin'  there  some  considerable  this  spring  and  summer. 
He  'lowed  he'd  never  seen  no  money  pass  between  em,  nor 
heerd  no  talk  o'  bills,  but  that  don't  prove  nothin'  !  They're 
a  desprit  close-mouthed  set." 

The  "  stiddy  rain  "  predicted  by  Ezra  and  his  intellectual 
peer,  "  Mr.  Chicken,"  lasted  all  that  day  and  the  next,  and 
my  state  of  body  and  mind  had,  by  Saturday  night,  passed 
over  the  jagged  bounds  of  desperation  into  the  mire  and 
darkness  of  despair.  I  had  read  such  books  as  my  sister  had 
packed  in  spare  corners  of  my  trunk  to  keep  other  proper- 
ties from  "riding"  to  their  own  damage  and  that  of  their 
neighbors,  until  I  was  nearly  blind.  They  were,  for  the  most 
part,  light  literature  of  the  frothiest  order,  selected,  I  imag- 
ined, first,  because  my  mind  was  considered  to  be  in  need  of 
dissipation  and  distraction;  secondly,  because  pamphlets 
were  less  likely  to  tumble  my  shirt-bosoms  and  rub  holes  in 
my  cloth  Sunday-suit  than  stiff-backed  and  sharp  edged  vol. 
3 


SO  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

umes.  Two  days  of  this  cooling  diet  so  effectually  dissipated 
such  powers  of  thought  as  had  survived  six  weeks  of  fever 
and  six  days  of  country  recreation,  that  I  was  in  danger  of 
permanent  distraction. 

I  made  no  pretensions  to  "  keeping  the  run  "  of  the  vari- 
ous stories.  Plots  (if  there  were  any),  characters,  incidents 
and  denouements,  were,  with  respect  to  the  pulpy  mass  of  my 
brain,  like  Miss  Phelps's  Bible  Class  scholar's  ideas  of  the 
blessed  inhabitants  of  heaven,  "floating  around  loose  some- 
how, like  jubejube  paste."  My  room,  bestrewed  with  yellow 
and  purple-covered  "  novels,"  than  which  nothing,  it  seemed 
to  me,  could  be  more  stale  ;  with  the  sullen  roll  of  the  rain 
upon  the  slanting  roof,  and  the  sometime  fast,  sometime 
deliberate  drip  from  the  leaky  trough  under  the  eaves  upon 
the  top  of  the  porch  beneath  my  window,  was  yet  many  de- 
grees preferable  to  the  scenes  and  society  below-stairs.  I 
have  never  marvelled  at  the  sterility  and  slowness  of  the 
average  country  mind  since  that  rainy  Friday  and  Saturday. 

"  How  do  you  employ  and  amuse  yourselves  in  wet 
weather  ?  "  I  had  asked  of  Ezra,  the  first  day. 

"  Oh,  it's  'cordin  as  it  falls  !  "  I  had  not  the  remotest  con- 
ception of  his  meaning.  "We  mostly  keep  a-potterin' 
'round." 

I  discovered  what  that  signified  before  my  forty-eight  hour 
term  of  confinement  expired. 

Mrs.  Ezra  did  much  of  her  pottering  in  the  garret — a  space 
between  the  chamber-ceilings  which  sloped  on  one  side,  and 
the  roof-tree  which  sloped  on  both  sides — a  space  lighted 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE,  51 

by  a  triangular  window  in  each  gable,  and  which,  on  these 
dully-illumined  days,  must  have  been  nearly  dark  when  one 
stood  equi-distant  from  the  casements.  A  space  that  smelled 
so  mightily  of  old  leather,  onions,  moth-eaten  woollens,  dried 
apples,  dried  pumpkins  and  dry  rot,  that  overpowering  whiffs 
shot  in  through  my  key-hole  whenever  the  garret-door — not 
five  feet  off  and  exactly  opposite — was  opened,  and  it  stood 
wide  all  the  while  Mrs.  Ezra  was  overhauling  the  hid  treasures 
therein  entombed. 

The  grand-dame — Ezra  and  his  spouse  called  her  "  the  old 
lady  "  invariably  in  speaking  of  her — pottered  in  the  kitchen, 
the  fire  being  "  comfortin'  to  her  bones  of  a  damp  day,"  she 
informed  me  with  unflinching  regularity  three  times  per  diem, 
and  on  as  many  other  occasions  as  I  chanced  to  encounter 
her.  She  rattled  in  cupboard  corners  with  a  very  quilly 
turkey-wing  to  get  out  the  dust ;  rattled  inside  the  pots  with 
a  stick  tied  to  a  wet  rag,  and  rattled  the  covers  in  putting 
them  on,  rattled  plate  upon  plate,  and  dish  against  dish  ; 
always  dropped  the  stove-covers  upon  the  hearth  before 
rattling  them  into  their  places  ;  knocked  down  the  shovel  and 
tongs  twenty  times  a  day,  and  made  so  much  rattling  in 
getting  them  again  into  position  that  one  might  have  suspected 
her  of  practicing  tongs-and-bones  for  an  Ethiopian  serenade  ; 
rattled  chairs  over  tables  and  tables  over  the  floor  ;  broom, 
dust-pan,  scrubbing-pail  aud  brush  over  everything,  until  I, 
condemned  to  hear  all  through  the  thin  flooring,  was  diaboli- 
cally tempted  to  wish  that  the  death-rattle  might  make  a 
seasonable  abatement  of  the  nuisance.  I  could  have  borne  it 


52  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

better,  if  she  had  not  talked  to  herself  incessantly,  when  alone. 
Once,  passing  along  the  entry  on  my  way  to  the  well  for  a 
pitcher  of  cool  water,  I  saw  as  well  as  heard  her  through  the 
kitchen-door  which  was  ajar.  Her  head  was  tied  up  in  a 
blue  cotton  handkerchief  and  she  had  on  a  chocolate  calico 
gown.  Her  glasses  were  on  the  tip  of  her  nose,  and  while 
she  scoured  a  milk-pail  with  rattling  nails  and  knuckles,  she 
jabbered  in  this  fashion  : 

"  Myry  Coles  said  so,  and  she'd  orter  know ;  Myry  was  a 
spry  girl's  ever  was.  Righteousness  and  truth  meet  together. 
My  ole  granny  always  held  out  there  weren't  no  manner  of 
use  in  putting  a  mite  o'  salt  into  soft  soap.  I  never  see  sich 
another  to  make  butter  and  hive  bees.  Ontil  the  land  be 
des'late  and  the  cities  "thout  inhabitant.  Ther's  no  gittin' 
'round  comfortin'  Scripter  like  that,  let  Ezry  say  what  he 
likes.  They  might  talk  to  me  'till  Doomsday  'n'  nobody 
shouldn't  make  me  say  's  how  blue  vit'ril  ain't  equinomical 
fur  to  dye  yarn  and  carpet-rags.  Avide  the  a'pearance  of 
evil.  Hannah  Jones — she  was  Dominie  Vanderdonk's  third 
wife.  His  second  was  a  Bristow.  The  fust  was  a  Dykeman. 
He  didn't  get  no  money  with  none  but  her." 

Nobody  ever  intimated  that  the  old  housewife  was  insane. 
She  was  reputed  among  her  kinsfolk  and  congeners  to  be 
"  wonderful  smart  for  her  years."  But,  as  I  regained  my 
chamber  and  the  split-bottomed  chair  that  gave  me  the 
choice  between  the  potato-field  on  my  left  and  the  big  barn 
on  my  right — through  the  two-leaved  doors  of  which  I  could 
see  Ezra  "pottering  about"  the  dusky  interior  in  his  shirt- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  S3 

sleeves — I  entered  upon  a  serious  and  not  inspiriting  calcula- 
tion of  the  causes  which  had  induced  the  habit  of  senile 
maundering  that  made  her  grotesque  instead  of  being  the 
object  of  affectionate  veneration.  Cramped  by  her  sur- 
roundings and  by  the  fact  of  her  womanhood,  that  by  which 
her  husband  and  sons  and  their  masculine  associates  "  set  no 
store  " — the  radius  of  thought  and  ambition  had  narrowed 
yearly,  until  what  might  have  grown  into  autumnal  fulness 
and  beauty  had  become  a  shrivelled  husk  in  which  the  dead 
kernels  of  ideas  lay  loosely,  without  order  or  sequence.  Poor 
old  soul !  what  wonder  that  everything  else  rattled  under  her 
touch  ?  Her  son  would  be  no  better  at  the  same  age.  His 
piety,  by  which  he  did  "  set  store,"  being  an  Elder  in  an  or- 
thodox Church — would  be  as  absurdly  formulated. 

All  this  time  the  rain  poured  steadily  upon  the  house-roof, 
spattered,  gurgled  and  gushed  through  the  break  in  the 
wooden  gutter  exactly  above  my  window,  down  upon  the 
shingled  porch.  Beyond  potato-patch  and  barn-yard  the 
landscape  was  but  semi-visible  by  reason  of  the  drooping 
veil  of  cloud,  and  sheets  of  fine  mist,  quickly  succeeded  by 
others  when  they  broke  over  the  earth  under  the  superin- 
cumbent weight  of  moisture.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 
my  utter  demoralization,  or  how  well  considered-  was  the  vow 
I  then  and  there  committed  to  the  register  of  memory,  that 
I  would  abjure  farm-houses  and  the  denizens  thereof,  for  the 
brief  remainder  of  my  unnaturally  worthless  existence. 
Had  I  been  but  a  degree  stronger  in  body,  and,  as  a  conse- 
quence, in  moral  courage,  or  had  my  city  home  been  more 


54  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

alluring,  I  should  have  fled  incontinently  by  Saturday  morn- 
ing's stage,  and  braved  my  father's  wrath  at  the  violation 
of  my  tacit  pledge,  to  give  country  air  a  fair  trial.  I  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  own  that  I  called  the  longing  for  the  sprightly 
companionship  that  had  enlivened  two  forenoons  of  the 
week  "  puerile,"  judged  myself  to  have  sunk  very  low  in  the 
scale  of  reason  and  taste,  for  thinking  that  the  Gaskin  home- 
stead itself  might  be  endurable  even  in  wet  weather,  were 
Ailsie  one  of  the  inmates. 

Saturday  night  came  at  last.  I  had  despaired  of  ever 
seeing  it,  a  dozen  times  that  day,  and  I  went  to  bed  early,  to 
be  kept  awake  for  hours  by  the  rattling  "rain  upon  the 
roof,"  and  the  noisier  water-spout  above  my  window.  I 
seemed  to  have  dozed  but  a  few  minutes  in  a  discursive 
miserable  manner,  when  the  rising  sun  shot  a  volley  of  gold- 
tipped  arrows  between  my  eyelids.  It  was  Sunday  morning, 
fresh  and  glorious,  but  so  wet  in  meadow  and  footpath,  so 
miry  as  to  highways,  that  neither  I  nor  the  Gaskins  ventured 
beyond  the  yard-gate  in  the  forenoon.  My  sister  had 
slipped  in  some  religious  periodicals  and  papers,  furnished 
doubtless  by  my  step-mother,  among  the  novels.  I  nodded 
over  a  batch  of  these  at  one  end  of  the  porch  shaded  by  the 
"  Matrimony-vine,"  while  Ezra  snored  outright  and  out- 
rageously in  his  arm-chair  at  the  other,  Zion's  Herald  and 
Gospel  Trumpet,  spread  over  his  face  to  keep  off  the  flies. 
The  "women-folks,"  Ezra's  nomenclature  for  mother  and 
wife,  meanwhile  clashed  and  clattered  over  the  roaring  hot 
cooking-stove,  getting  up  the  "  big  dinner  "  of  the  week. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  55 

It  was  past  three  o'clock,  and  the  afternoon,  although 
warm,  still  held  the  freshness  of  the  two-days'  storm,  when  I 
strolled  down  the  path  skirting  the  high-shouldered  hill 
capped  by  the  farm-house.  The  maple  wood  was  cool,  and 
fragrant  with  the  smell  of  the  soaked  earth  and  bush  under- 
growth. The  pines  and  hemlocks  were  still  and  dim  as 
cathedral  aisles  before  matins.  The  swollen  creek  ran 
noiselessly  over  the  hidden  stones,  in  quest  of  the  unknown 
river.  The  rock  on  which  I  had  first  seen  Ailsie  was  under 
water,  and  only  to  be  located  by  the  swirling  eddies  about  it. 
Her  placid  pool  was  a  muddy  sluggish  maelstrom,  in  which 
fifty  trout  might  hide.  The  fortifications  of  Gibraltar  were 
a  gray  expanse  of  ruins,  hardly  a  furrow  remaining  to  mark 
the  site  of  glacis,  barbican,  or  tower.  I  said  "  ridiculous  ! " 
between  my  teeth  because  I  was  sorry  that  I  could  not  find 
the  flag  with  the  knitting-needle  attachment,  and  something 
as  self-contemptuous  about  my  involuntary  glance  at  the 
banyan  bower.  It  had  held  its  own  through  wind  and  rain, 
and  although  scarcely  an  inviting  retreat  amid  the  pervading 
humidity,  looked  undeniably  picturesque.  The  situation 
was  well  chosen,  having  a  natural  avenue  open  to  the  creek 
side,  and  I  had  trimmed  and  woven  better  than  I  knew  in 
shaping  the  vine-grown  thicket.  The  mossy  floor  was  oozing 
sponge  to  my  tread,  and  the  tabouret  would,  I  feared,  have 
to  be  hung  out  to  dry  piece-meal  ere  it  would  be  prudent 
for  the  proprietors  of  the  lodge  in  the  wilderness  again  to 
sit  side  by  side  upon  it. 

I  was  still  inspecting  house  and  furniture  when  voices  and 


5  6  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

steps  sounded  along  the  brink  of  the  stream,  and  the  flutter 
of  a  white  dress  past  the  rents  in  the  bush-fringe  forewarned 
me  of  Ailsie's  arrival.  A  gentleman  held  her  hand,  and 
walked  in  the  path,  swinging  his  cane,  while  she  darted  from 
rock  to  rock  like  a  kitten. 

"  There  he  is ! "  I  heard  her  cry  gladly,  before  I  could 
leave  my  covert. 

To  spare  myself  embarrassment  and  the  new-comers  the 
ascent  of  the  hill,  I  met  them  more  than  half-way. 

"  This  is  papa  !  "  said  my  "  friend,"  gravely  gracious 
during  the  ceremony  of  introduction.  "  Papa,  this  is  the 
kind  gentleman  I  told  you  about — Mr.  Barry," — pausing  and 
looking  to  me  for  the  rest. 

"  Haye,"  I  supplied,  smiling.     Mr.  Darling  took  me  up  : 

"  As  I  anticipated  !  I  met  your  father,  with  whom  I  have 
had  a  business  acquaintance  for  some  years,  in  the  city  on 
Friday.  He  told  me  that  you  were  boarding  near  us  for  the 
summer.  I  should  have  sought  you  in  fulfillment  of  my 
promise  to  him,  even  had  not  my  little  daughter  here  told 
me  of  your  goodness  to  her.  She  has  reported  such 
wonderful  things  of  your  joint  achievements  in  fortification 
and  bower-building  that  her  mother  and  myself  fear  she  may 
have  been  troublesome." 

I  denied  this  with  equal  politeness  and  truth,  adding  to 
Ailsie  that  I  had  missed  her  dolefully  in  her  absence. 

"  Not  more  than  she  has  her  new  friend,"  said  her  father. 
"  She  was  positive,  scripture  to  the  contrary,  that  a  second 
Noachian  deluge  had  begun." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  57 

After  a  few  minutes  had  been  given  to  lamentation  over 
the  effaced  fort  and  rejoicing  that  the  arbor  was  rather 
improved  than  injured  by  the  rain,  Mr.  Darling  turned 
again  to  Ailsie.  He  was  evidently  very  proud  as  well  as 
fond  of  her. 

"  My  daughter,  will  you  deliver  mamma's  message,  or 
shall  I  ?  " 

She  repeated  it  as  prettily  as  she  had  performed  the  intro- 
duction. Mrs.  Darling  sent,  with  her  compliments  to  me,  an 
invitation  to  take  tea  and  pass  the  night  at  her  father-in- 
law's. 

"  You  are  to  stay  all  night  because  the  evening  air  isn't 
good  for  invaliders, "  Ailsie  explained. 

Nevertheless,  we  passed  the  interval  between  tea  and  bed- 
time upon  the  broad  porch  running  along  the  south  front  of 
the  Darling  homestead.  The  family  proper  consisted  of  Jhe 
elder  Darling  and  his  wife,  as  fine  specimens  of  squire  and 
lady  as  English  manor-house  could  have  produced,  and  their 
youngest  son,  Wynant,  a  gay  collegian  at  home  for  the  vaca- 
tion. The  rest  of  a  large  family  of  children  were  out  in  the 
great  world,  with  families  and  homes  of  their  own. 

"  You  may  imagine  what  a  welcome  variety  in  our  hum- 
drum life  is  the  visit  of  our  son  and  his  home-treasures,  " 
remarked  lovely  old  Mrs.  Darling  to  me,  "  and  how  pleasantly 
the  sound  of  children's  voices  brings  back  thoughts  of  the 
time  when  I  had  all  my  little  flock  about  my  knees  every 
evening,  and  the  house  was  never  still  during  the  day." 

Mrs.  Pressley  Darling  returned  the  affectionate  smile  that 


58  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

rested  upon  her,  with  Baby  Evy  in  her  lap  and  Robby  hang- 
ing  upon  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  It  is  not  every  grandmother  who  would  tolerate  the  hub- 
bub," she  said.  "  But  think,  Mr.  Haye,  how  delightful  must 
be  the  exchange  to  us — the  mountain  air  and  scenery  and  the 
hospitality  of  this  blessed  resting-place  after  close  rooms  and 
streets  in  the  city  !  " 

While  her  elders  talked,  Ailsie  sat  upon  a  stool  between 
her  father  and  myself,  her  hand  on  his  knee,  her  head  on  the 
elbow  of  my  arm-chair,  perfectly  quiet,  and  if  one  might 
judge  from  her  countenance,  entirely  contented.  As  the 
sun  sank  into  a  sea  of  such  transparent  goldenness  as  belongs 
to  June  evenings,  and  none  other,  the  mountains  heaved 
higher  their  purple  backs  against  the  sky,  and  the  shadows 
rolled  into  solemn  stillness  in  the  valleys.  Here  and  there, 
upon  the  plains,  glimmered  an  eye  of  light  like  a  jewel  upon 
breast  or  brow  of  ripe  and  royal  nature ;  the  gleam  of  lake 
or  pond,  or  the  sudden  turn  into  the  open  country  of  a 
mountain  stream.  Soon,  the  tree-shadows  on  the  lawn  grew 
into  renewed  distinctness  ;  the  dusky  mother  bedecked  her- 
self with  ornaments  of  silver  instead  of  gold  ;  the  hard  out- 
lines of  the  mountains  were  softened,  and  farther  away  than 
when  they  had  seemed  to  close,  dark  and  lofty,  in  upon  us 
with  the  withdrawal  of  the  sun.  But  in  the  valleys  the 
shadows  never  stirred,  and  the  gorges  were  labyrinths  of 
mysterious  gloom,  even  when  the  moon  had  cleared  the  bars 
and  mists  of  the  wooded  hill-tops  and  looked  full  upon  us. 

The  smaller  children  were  sent  to  bed,  and  the  tones  of 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  59 

the  group  left  upon  the  porch  were  lower,  made  gentler  and 
harmonious  by  the  influence  of  the  hour  and  scene.  The 
genial  flow  of  conversation,  with  its  exquisite  flavor  of  re- 
fined breeding  and  genuine  good- will,  delicious  to  me  as 
the  music  of  olden  days  and  his  own  fireside  to  the  time- 
worn  traveller,  was  punctuated,  sometimes  emphasized,  by 
rests,  and  in  these  the  sacred  quiet  of  the  evening  spoke  to 
us  as  man  speaketh  with  his  friend.  The  advancing  tide  of 
moonlight  flowed  in  upon  the  three  sitting  nearest  the  edge 
of  the  piazza,  washed  the  hem  of  Ailsie's  white  dress,  crept 
up  to  the  hand  lying  with  lax,  still  fingers  upon  her  lap  ;  on- 
ward and  higher  until  it  showed  her  face,  paled  by  the  chaste 
lustre,  and  brought  out  the  sheen  on  the  ripples  of  dark  hair 
tossed  back  from  her  forehead.  She  was  gazing  steadily  up- 
ward, her  thoughts  further  away  than  the  shadowy  line  of  the 
most  distant  hills.  Childish  wonderings,  the  outreaching  of 
an  immortal  soul  beginning  to  be  reverently  conscious  of 
what  it  might  be — what  reach  and  enjoy — were  in  the  look 
upon  which  none  of  us  who  were  observant  of  her  dared 
remark. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  feeling-fraught  rests  to  which  I  have 
referred,  that  she  began  to  sing,  according  to  the  family  habit 
on  Sabbath  evenings.  The  sound  was  scarcely  more  than  a 
measured  breath  at  first,  and  seemed  to  escape  her  involun- 
tarily. The  words  were  audible  presently,  and  the  move- 
ment more  assured.  It  was  a  chant ;  a  Gregorian,  with 
which  we  were  all  familiar.  The  mother  joined  in  softly 
with  a  sweet  second,  father  and  uncle  followed,  upbearing 


60  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

the  child-voice  into  roundness  and  strength  of  which  I  had 
not  believed  it  capable. 

"  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills 
From  whence  cometh  my  help. 
My  help  cometh  from  the  LORD, 
Which  made  heaven  and  earth. 
He  will  not  suffer  thy  foot  to  be  moved ; 
He  that  keepeth  Israel  shall  not  slumber ; 
Behold  !  He  that  keepeth  Israel 
Shah1  neither  slumber  nor  sleep. 
The  LORD  is  thy  keeper ; 
The  LORD  is  thy  shadow  upon  thy  right  hand. 
The  sun  shall  not  smite  thee  by  day, 
Nor  the  moon  by  night. 
The  LORD  shall  preserve  thee  from  all  evil, 
He  shall  preserve  thy  soul ; 
The  LORD  shall  preserve  thy  going  out 
And  thy  coming  in  from  this  time  forth, 
And  even  forevermore. 

"  Glory  be  to  the  FATHER,  and  to  the  SON, 
And  to  the  HOLY  GHOST  ! 
As  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
Is  now  and  ever  shall  be, 
World  without  end  !     Amen  ! " 

As  the  last  exultant  note  trembled  towards  the  stars,  the 
child  who  had  led  us  in  the  service  of  praise  arose  silently, 
shook  hands  with  me,  kissed  the  others,  still  mutely,  and 
withdrew,  her  gliding  step  a  mere  throb  of  the  stillness. 

O  my  little  love  !    when  I  remember  this,  the  beginning 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  6 1 

of  your  holy  ministry  to  my  undisciplined  spirit,  the  tender- 
ness and  grace  of  your  unconscious  bringing  of  the  things 
of  the  better  life  and  showing  them  unto  me — uncultured, 
selfish  stripling  that  I  was,  dull  and  common  clay  beside  the 
fine  clearness  of  your  soul — tears  say  for  me  what  words  have 
never  expressed ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 
"PAPA!" 

T  was  more  than  a  month  after  my  introduction 
to  the  Darlings,  and  consequently  my  en- 
trance upon  the  delights  of  a  summer  in  the 
country,  that  Ailsie  and  I  returned  home  one 


afternoon  from  a  raspberry  picking,  with  full  baskets 
and  lips  dyed  as  darkly  as  were  our  fingers. 

She  was  as  plump  and  brown  as  a  partridge,  and 
as  fleet  of  foot  amidst  stubble  and  brambles.  An 
indomitable  excursionist,  she  had  dragged  me  over 
stone  walls,  dry  ditches  and  spongy  marshes  by  the 
shortest  route,  which  she  knew  as  well  as  any  crow  that 
flew — and,  I  was  inclined  to  think,  like  the  birds  of  the  air, 
by  instinct — to  the  "  big  piece." 

"  Big  piece  of  what  ?  "  asked  I,  when  she  named  our  des- 
tination. 

"  You'll  see  when  you  get  there  ! "  was  all  the  answer  I 
got. 

I  found  it  to  be  a  square  half-mile  of  wild  raspberry  vines 
packed  as  closely  together  as  they  could  grow  and  bear,  and 
looking  from  the  road  and  encompassing  highlands  like  a 
sunken  morass  cloaked  with  briars,  leaves  and  fruit.  We 
had  made  a  picnic  of  our  jaunt,  taking  lunch  along  in  our 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  63 

baskets,  and  dutifully  emptying  them  to  the  last  crumb, 
while  resting  beside  a  spring  that  bubbled  up  considerately  on 
the  borders  of  the  berried  jungle.  We  had  famous  appetites, 
both  of  us.  Ailsie  was  growing  vigorously  in  the  free,  active 
life  she  led,  and  the  greed  of  convalescence  for  everything 
edible  was  mighty  upon  me.  Ezra  had  ceased  to  carp  at  my 
disrelish  of  such  "hullsome  vittles"  as  stale  "rye  'n  Injun" 
and  fried  pork  with  the  rind  on,  and  my  discussion,  after  a 
two-mile  walk,  of  Mrs.  Darling's  cold  chicken,  flaky  biscuits, 
and  the  "wonders,"  well-named  for  their  crispness  and  flavor, 
would  have  been  a  study  to  any  one  but  a  hungry  man — or 
child. 

"  There  are  so  many  berries  we  needn't  pick  any  beceps 
the  very  biggest,"  said  sage  Ailsie. 

But  even  when  we  followed  this  rule  we  were  not  long  in 
piling  our  baskets  until  not  another  would  stay  on  the  heap. 

"  If  we  crowd  on  the  tops  we  shall  have  raspberry  jam" 
I  observed,  and  was  rewarded  for  my  bad  pun  by  the  flash  of 
eyes  and  teeth  that  never  failed  to  applaud  anything  approx- 
imating humor. 

Home  we  trudged  in  great  spirits.  My  knees  were  some- 
what unsteady  from  stooping  to  the  level  of  the  berry-bushes, 
but  Ailsie  did  not  flag  in  step  or  tongue.  She  "  came  out 
strong  "  in  tete-a-tetes.  In  company  with  three  or  four  others, 
although  these  might  be  members  of  her  own  family,  she  was 
less  talkative  as  a  rule  than  are  most  intelligent,  sprightly 
children,  in  like  circumstances.  A  nonpareil  of  a  listener, 
she  was  apparently  so  much  engrossed  in  gathering  informa- 


64  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

tion,  sifting  it,  and  storing  away  in  her  retentive  memory 
what  was  worth  preserving,  that  she  had  no  leisure  for  com- 
municating her  own  views  and  feelings.  Her  great  gray 
eyes  lost  nothing  that  was  to  be  seen,  and  her  ears  and  wits 
were  as  acute. 

To-day  her  chatter  was  illimitable,  receiving  impetus  at 
every  yard  from  bird,  beast,  leaf  and  stone.  Her  taste  for 
natural  history  was  a  passion,  and  her  love  for  all  dumb 
creatures  exceeded  the  bounds  of  gentlest  Christian  charity. 
Her  specialty  that  summer,  if  an  entomologist  so  catholic  in 
her  likings  could  be  said  to  have  one, — was  spiders. 

"  What  becomes  of  them  all  in  the  day-time  I  can't  imag- 
ine I "  she  discoursed  to  me  in  the  thick  of  a  brambly  field, 
where  dewberries  were  to  be  had  by  the  bushel  for  the  pick- 
ing. "You  wouldn't  believe  that  every  morning,  when 
there's  a  heavy  dew,  the  whole  of  this  field  looks  as  if  it  was 
covered  with  white  lace.  White  lace  with  teenty  taunty 
pearls  strung  on  it,  like  those  on  a  breastpin  and  pair  of  ear- 
rings Aunt  Evy  has — white  and  shiny  as  frost.  I  used  to 
make  believe  that  the  fairies  had  been  washing  their 'ball- 
dresses  and  had  hung  them  out  to  dry.  Now,  see  here  !  this 
is  what  I'd  like  to  know  !  the  webs  wouldn't  be  here  'less  the 
spiders  had  put  them  on  the  grass  and  "bushes  to  catch  flies 
and  gnats  and  lady-bugs  and  things.  That's  the  trouble 
about  spiders,  they  will  kill  things  to  eat.  Harmless  little 
bugs  and  grasshoppers  before  they  are  grown,  and  butterflies 
that  aren't  strong  enough  to  break  out  of  the  cobwebs.  I 
wouldn't  hardly  believe  it  till  I  caught  them  at  it." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  65 

"  I  hope  you  punished  them  properly  ?  " 

"  No  !  Why  should  I  be  cruel  because  they  were  ? 
'Specially  as  they  didn't  know  any  better,  and  as  the  hymn 
says  about  bears  and  lions,  "'Tis  their  nature  to  ?  "  For  all 
that,  it's  an  ugly  nature.  But  as  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  I 
had  a  tame  one  in  a  tumbler  once,  tilted  up  the  leastest  bit 
at  the  side  so's  he  could  breathe.  A  beauty — yellow  with 
black  stripes  like  a  tiger,  and  eyes  like  yellow  beads.  He 
wasn't  so  very  tame  either,  but  I  meant  to  do  it.  I'd  been 
reading  about  Baron  Trenck  and  his  tame  spider  in  prison. 
Well !  I  tried  my  very  best  to  teach  him  to  eat  bread  and 
sugar  and  milk,  and  such  nice  food.  But,  bless  you  !  he  just 
wouldn't !  He  was  real  obstinate  about  it.  I  can't  help 
hoping  he  would  have  behaved  better  when  he  got  well  ac- 
quainted with  me.  I  sufl-pose  he  was  shy  at  first.  But  he 
died,  poor  fellow,  before  he  learned  anything.  Why,  there 
must  be  a  thousand  spiders  hiding  somewhere  in  this  very 
meadow.  You've  seen  the  fine  threads  that  catch  on  your 
eye-lashes  and  tickle  your  nose  when  you're  riding  or  walking 
in  the  woods  ?  They're  spiders'  webs.  It's  too  queer  what 
they  do  with  themselves  when  they  hear  us  coming.  It  must 
be  fun  to  see  them  scamper  to  hide,  and  better  fun  for 
them  than  playing  tag.  But  come  here  when  you  may, 
you'll  never  see  so  much  as  the  toe  of  a  daddy-long- 
legs." 

"  You  seem  to  be  pretty  well  used  to  their  ways,"  I  said. 
"  Have  you  ever  been  here  before  ?  Or  are  the  habits  of  all 
colonies  of  spiders  alike  ?  " 


66  My  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

The  field  was  nearly  half  a  mile  from  the  house,  and  I  was 
surprised  at  her  familiarity  with  the  ground. 

"  Often  and  often  !  Grandpa  brings  me  sometimes,  and 
once  Uncle  Wy  when  he  was  out  hunting  for  woodcockers. 
They  aren't  a  mite  like  woodpeckers,  you  know,  beceps  their 
long  bills.  But  they  live  upon  worms,  too.  Only  they  fish 
them  up  out  of  wet  ground,  instead  of  tapping  on  trees  to 
make  them  run  out  to  see  what's  the  matter.  And  twice  I 
ran  away.  That  was  before  I  knew  how  wrong  and  disobe- 
dientish  it  was.  Ever  and  ever  so  many  weeks  ago.  Before 
I  got  acquainted  with  you  or  had  ever  been  to  Maple  Hill, 
not  very  many  days  after  we  came  to  grandpa's.  You  must 
have  suspected  that  I  was  a  runaway  child  the  first  time  you 
saw  me — didn't  you  ?  " 

"What  else  could  I  think,  Ailsie?  Unless  that  your 
father  and  mother  did  not  care  much  what  became  of  their 
little  daughter  ?  I  saw  from  your  dress  and  behavior  that 
you  were  not  a  wood-cutter's  or  farmer's  child,  even  if  there 
had  been  any  farm-house  nearer  to  the  creek  than  Mr.  Gas- 
kin's." 

"I'll  tell  you  just  exactly  how  it  happened,"  she  began  in 
a  violent  hurry  as  was  her  way  when  the  cause  of  truth'  or 
the  character  of  those  she  loved  was  to  be  vindicated. 
'  Mary  used  to  take  Robby  and  baby  and  me  out  walking, 
and  stay  all  the  morning.  'There's  nothing  like  the  country 
air  and  rambling  about  the  beautiful  woods  for  doing  the 
innocent  crayturs  good,  ma'am  ! '  she'd  say  to  mamma. 
And  this  was  the  way  she  went  a-walking  in  the  country  and 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  67 

rambling  in  the  beautiful  woods  !  She  went  straight  as  she 
could  waddle  to  the  same  exactikle  place  every  blessed 
morning,  and  settled  herself  down  on  a  stone — when  she  had 
spread  her  shawl  on  it — in  the  shade  of  the  big  oaks  by  the 
pasture-fence,  and  sewed  patch-work  pieces  for  her  sister-in- 
law's  bed-quilt  the  live-long  forenoon." 

"  I  have  seen  her  there  several  times,"  interrupted  I, 
much  amused. 

"  Course  you  have!  She  says  it's  the  'garden-spot  of 
the  farrum — that  fence-corner  ! '  So  Robby  used  to  paddle 
around  and  talk  to  the  sheep,  and  throw  wee  bits  of  pebbles 
at  the  cows  that  were  too  far  off  for  him  to  chase  or  hit,  and 
never  got  tired  of  looking  at  the  two  "  baby  horses."  That's 
what  he  calls  colts.  Baby  reg'larly  went  to  sleep  in  the 
wagon,  and  Mary  sewed  black  and  green  and  red  and  blue 
and  white  pieces  higgledy-piggedy  in  what  she  called  her 
'  Irish  chain,'  and  sung  '  Cush-/#,  cush-/a,  wadiree-e-e  ! ' 
to  baby  and  herself  until  I  was  sick  and  tired  of  hearing  her 
stuff  and  nonsense.  She  can't  turn  a  tune  to  save  her  life. 
I  wish  you  could  hear  her  sing  '  Dear,  dear,  what  can  the 
matter  be  ! '  The  idea  of  the  little  dump  of  red  hair  on  the 
back  of  our  Mary's  head  being  tied  up  'with  a  bunch  of 
blue  ribbons  ! '  " 

We  both  stopped  to  laugh.  We  were  in  the  road,  now, 
and  I  proposed  a  rest  on  a  turfy  bank  while  the  story  went 
on.  Released  from  the  duty  of  carrying  the  berry-basket 
she  would  not  resign  to  me  except  when  we  were  climbing 
fences,  Ailsie's  stained  hands  played  a  conspicuous  part  in 


68  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

illustrating  the  remainder  of  the  narrative.  Her  hat  was 
thrown  beside  her  on  the  ground.  Her  dark,  warm  com- 
plexion and  mobile  face  gave  her  the  look  of  a  Spanish  gitana. 

Lying  on  the  slope  of  the  bank,  I  feasted  my  eyes  while  I 
listened.  She  always  interested  me,  but  to-day  I  was  in  the 
humor  to  be  entertained,  or  she  was  unusually  piquante. 

"All  this  was  dull  music  for  me,  as  you  may  j#/-pose,  and 
I  got  into  a  way  of  going  off  by  myself  down  to  the  river. 
Then  I  made  up  ex-plo-ding  exper-ditions " — a  death-strug- 
gle with  both  words — "  and  in  one  of  these  I  happened  upon 
the  creek  that  runs  by  Maple  Hill  and  empties  into  the 
river  just  before  you  get  to  the  bridge.  Every  day  I  went  a 
little  further  until  I  got  to  Fairy  Land.  After  that  I  always 
stopped  there.  That's  the  way  I  got  acquainted  with  my 
disguised  prince.  I  used  to  sit  on  a  stone  and  watch  him 
and  he  never  minded  me  any  more  than  he  would  another 
fish.  At  last  I  met  you." 

"  On  a  happy  day  for  me,  Ailsie,  dear,"  I  said,  affectionately. 

Her  eyes  shone,  and  she  touched  the  back  of  my  hand 
with  her  empurpled  finger-tips — a  swift  gesture,  full  of 
tender  meaning. 

"  It  is  good  in  you  to  say  that !  The  second  day  I  saw 
you,  I  couldn't  hold  my  tongue  when  I  went  back  to  Mary, 
and  I  talked  so  much  about  how  nice  and  kind  you  were,  and 
what  you  had  helped  me  to  do,  and  what  great  things  we 
were  going  to  do,  that  she  began  to  look  frightened — I 
couldn't  guess  what  about  until  she  said  in  that  sly,  catty  way 
of  hers  that  1  hate — it  always  means  that  she  wants  to  get 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  69 

around  me  about  something — 'Ye'd  better  not  be  spaking 
too  free  to  yer  mamma,  about  the  foine,  strange  gintleman, 
darlint,  or  she'll,  mebbe,  forbid  yer  going  the  morrow.' 

"  I  told  her  all  about  him  yesterday,"  I  said,  "  and  she 
gave  me  the  ribbon  for  our  flag." 

"  '  In  course  ye  did,  yer  poor  innocent,  and  she  put  a  quare 
lot  of  questions  to  me  about  it,  last  night.  It  was  harrd 
wurruk  I  had  to  kape  her  from  ondirstandin"  that  ye  had 
strayed  so  far, — that  'twas  the  crick,  not  the  river,  where 
ye'd  been  building  yer  bush-house*  and  what-not,  and  that  I 
wasn't  forninst  ye,  all  the  while.  Ah  !  but  she's  a  particler 
leddy,  yer  mamma  is,  and  wirra  !  wirra  !  wrier"  s  the  use  of 
botherin'  the  dear  leddy  wid  shtories  of  what's  goin'  on  all 
over  the  farrm,  at  all  at  all,  Miss  Ailsie  ? '  " 

My  laugh  at  the  capital  mimicry  of  the  Irish  girl's  voice 
and  brogue  did  not  move  the  narrator  to  mirth.  She  was  in 
thorough  earnest  with  her  explanation  of  the  suspicious  cir- 
cumstances attending  our  introduction,  and  was  not  to  be 
distracted  by  side-questions. 

"  Then,  I  took  fire  !  I  left  her  right  there,  picking  up  her 
old  patchwork  off  the  grass,  and  '  wirra-wirra-ing '  to  her 
heart's  content,  and  marched  straight  to  the  house  and  told 
mamma  every  sep'ret,  individigel  thing  !  How  I  had  gone 
away,  miles  and  miles  from  Mary  every  single  day  for  a  fort- 
night, and  stayed  hours  and  hours,  and  how  she  wasn't  near 
me  all  the  time  you  and  I  were  at  worky  and  hadn't  so  much 
as  seen  you,  and  didn't  even  guess  where  my  Fairy  Land 
was,  and  I  hoped  she  would  never  find  it  out,  for  she'd  spoil 


70  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

all  our  fun.  And  how  she  hadn't  wanted  me  to  say  anything 
about  my  running  away,  and  to  pretend  1  hadn't  gone  fur- 
ther than  the  bridge,  and  that  was  the  first  way  I  knew  'twas 
a  sin  to  go  off  by  myself,  and  nobody  with  me.  And  wouldn't 
she,  please,  if  I  was  to  be  punished,  put  me  to  bed,  that  day, 
and  not  keep  me  away  from  the  creek  to-morrow.  Because 
the  Bower  wasn't  quite  altogether  done,  and  it  wouldn't  be 
honenrrable  to  dis'point  a  gentleman  who  had  been  so  very, 
very  good  to  me,  and  I  was  sure  you  were  a  perfect  gentleman ! 

"  Mamma  behaved  beautifully  !  She  took  me  on  her  lap, 
and  asked  me,  as  Mary  would  have  said — '  a  quare  lot  of 
questions,'  but  she  didn't  scold  so  much  as  a  whisper.  She 
said  P  hadn't  understood  that  it  was  not  safe  or  right  for  little 
girls  to  go  so  far  away  from  everybody,  'specially  so  near  the 
water.  When  papa  heard  it,  he  said  I  wasn't  really  and  truly 
a  runaway — only  '  a  stray,' — and  he  didn't  want  me  to  be 
stolen,  and  he  showed  me  the  devertisements  about  lost 
dogs  and  horses  in  the  papers,  and  made  me  laugh  by  won- 
dering if  he  had  better  crop  my  ears,  or  put  a  collar  about 
my  neck  with  his  name  on. 

"But  about  mamma  !  she  promised  to  go  to  the  bower 
with  me,  next  day,  and  see  you  herself.  Only  it  rained 
straight  along  until  Sunday,  you  remember." 

"  Don't  I  ?  I  shall  never  forget  it.  I  wanted  you  even 
then,  little  one.  I  was  ready  to  blow  my  brains  out  by  Sat- 
urday night ;  I  did  think  of  hanging  myself  with  the  bed-cord, 
but  it  was  too  much  trouble  to  undo  the  hard  knot  with  which 
it  was  tied." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  7* 

"  Pity  you  hadn't  asked  Mr.  Gaskin  to  untie  it  for  you — 
mischievously.  "He  wouldn't  have  minded  the  trouble  if 
you'd  told  him  what  you  wanted  with  it.  Dear  me  !  how  you 
interrupt  my  story  !  I  rather  think  mamma  gave  that  Mary  a 
going-over,  for  she  had  her  in  her  room  for  most  an  hour  that 
afternoon,  and  Mary's  eyes  were  red  as  my  spotted  rabbit's 
when  she  came  out.  But  she  didn't  dare  be  cross  to  me 
about  telling  tales.  I  'pected  she  would  be  horrid  for  a 
month  and  perfectly  bominationable.  But  I  didn't  care 
much.  I  don't  like  to  have  people  cross  with  me.  But  it's 
always  right  to  tell  the  straight,  plain  truth,  and  you  do  feel 
so  comfortable  when  it's  out  and  over  with  !  It's  like  some 
medicine  I  took  once,  lime-water,  I  believe — that  wasn't 
nice  going  down,  but  left  a  sweet  clean  taste  in  your  mouth." 

"  Were  you  not  afraid  to  wander  about  the  country, 
alone  ?  "  asked  I.  "  There  are  not  many  little  girls  of  your 
age  who  would  venture  to  do  it." 

"Pooh!  there's  nothing  in  the  country  to  be  afraid  of! 
Cows  and  dogs  and  oxens  never  hurt  anybody  that  doesn't 
trouble  them.  Now,  town  is  dreadful !  I  lie  awake  all  night, 
sometimes,  thinking  about  fire  and  bugglers  and  kitsnappers 
and  drunken  men  till  I  am  scared  out  of  my  senses.  I'm  a 
million  times  more  afraid  of  a  drunken  man  than  I  would  be 
of  a  gristle  bear.  One  chased  me,  once." 

"  O  Ailsie  !  a  grizzly  bear  ?  " 

I  could  not  win  her  to  smile  or  scold  at  my  willful  miscon- 
struction of  her  words. 

"A  drunken  man  ! "  she  said  in  a  whisper,  a  strong  shud- 


72  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

der  shaking  the  color  out  of  her  very  lips,  her  eyes  frightened. 
"  I  was  a  little  girl,  only  five  years  old.  I  had  been  to  see 
Emma  Rolfe  who  lives  on  the  next  block.  It  was  pretty 
late,  for  they  were  beginning  to  light  the  lamps  in  the  street. 
Right  on  the  corner  this  awful  man  hallooed  in  my  ear,  and 
made  a  great  trampling  with  his  feet.  '  I'll  catch  you  ! '  he 
said.  How  I  ran  !  Papa  was  opening  our  front-door,  and 
I  fell  down  at  his  feet ;  I  could  just  see  him,  and  that  was 
all.  My  feet  had  got  so  heavy  I  couldn't  have  gone  a  step 
further.  I  thought  I  was  dead.  Drunken  men  ought  to  be 
hanged  right  off,  like  mad  dogs  !  " 

Her  vindictive  energy  on  this  theme  had  long  since  ceased 
to  amuse  the  family,  as  I  found  when  I  happened  to  mention 
the  story  she  had  told  me  to  her  father.  He  related  the  in- 
cident to  me  which  she  had  outlined,  regretting  the  occur- 
rence as  an  absolute  misfortune.  The  effect  of  the  fright 
upon  the  susceptible  child  had  been  terrible,  so  alarming  in 
its  outward  manifestation  that  medical  aid  had  been  sum- 
moned to  quell  her  excitement,  and  secure  the  sleep  without 
which  it  was  feared  her  brain  would  give  way.  All  allusion 
to  the  subject  was  strictly  prohibited  in  the  household,  and 
for  a  year  her  parents  had  hoped  she  was  outgrowing  the  re- 
collection of  it.  Mr.  Darling  regarded  her  voluntary  recital 
of  the  story  to  me  as  a  token  that  the  violence  of  her  un- 
reasoning terror  was  subsiding.  In  the  country,  as  she  said 
truly,  she  was  devoid  of  physical  timidity.  She  loved  and 
made  friends  with  whatever  lived  and  moved,  made  a  reality 
and  a  joy  of  the  lovely  old  myths  of  elves  and  naiads  and 


MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE.  73 

wood-nymphs  ;  moved  through  the  valleys  and  groves  peopled 
by  her  imagination,  like  the  brave  little  princess  of  them  alL 
Of  her  moral  courage  I  have  given  evidence  in  her  own 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  she  met  the  nurserymaid's 
adroit  temptation  to  deception  and  overt  falsehood. 

I  was  to  see  another  side  of  the  kaleidoscopic  character 
before  the  day  was  spent. 

It  was  sunset  by  the  time  we  reached  home,  but  the 
aspect  of  the  family  group  upon  the  portico  was  not  quietly 
contemplative  as  was  usual  at  this  hour.  Wynant,  in  true 
fisherman's  rig, — trowsers  tucked  inside  of  his  long  boots,  and 
the  crown  of  his  slouched  hat  wreathed  with  catgut,  snells, 
hooks,  and  flies,  was  upon  one  knee  on  the  grass-plat  in  front 
of  the  door,  and  the  others  had  crowded  to  the  edge  of  the 
porch  to  see  the  trout  he  emptied  from  his  creel.  They 
shone  in  the  afternoon  light  as  if  dripping  from  a  quicksilver 
bath  ;  the  red  insignia  of  their  nobility  starring  their  sides 
were  so  many  rubies. 

The  chorus  of  admiration  broke  out  afresh  at  our  ap- 
proach. 

"  Better  than  berrying,  eh,  old  fellow  ? "  cried  Wynant. 
"  Another  time  you  will  make  a  wiser  choice.  I  haven't  seen 
them  rise  so  beautifully,  before,  this  year.  It  was  superb 
sport ! " 

Ailsie  frowned,  nettled  by  the  taunt  at  my  preference  for 
the  berrying  expedition  as  well  as  grieved  by  the  wholesale 
slaughter  of  her  favorites. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  very  grand  in  murdering  a  few  lit- 
4 


74  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

tie  fish,  no  longer  than  your  hand,  who  never  hurt  anybody 
and  hadn't  sense  enough  to  keep  off  your  hook,"  she  said 
pertly,  or,  so  it  sounded  to  her  father,  who  was  himself  an 
enthusiastic  sportsman. 

"  Be  still !  Do  not  let  me  hear  you  speak  in  that  tone 
again  !  "  he  ordered  sternly.  "  That  is  a  splendid  fellow  !  " 
to  his  brother,  who  drew  out  and  held  up  to  general  view 
the  last  treasure  of  the  basket  and  the  handsomest  of  all. 
"  He  must  weigh  at  least  two  pounds." 

"  The  gem  of  the  collection  !  "  said  the  captor,  handling 
him  with  fond  triumph,  brushing  a  bit  of  grass  from  his  silver 
skin  and  stroking  his  fins.  "  Yet  I  did  not  catch  another 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  him.  And  when  I  came  to 
think  of  it,  the  marvel  was  how  he  chanced  to  be  there,  not 
that  he  had  the  pool  all  to  himself.  Father  !  did  you  ever 
hear  of  taking  trout  below  the  falls  in  Yawpo  creek  ?  I  hook- 
ed this  prize  in  a  hollow  just  at  the  foot  of  Maple  Hill.  If 
he  had  had  the  wit  to  keep  still,  I  never  should  have  thought 
of  stopping  there.  But  he  rose  at  a  dragon-fly  as  I  came  in 
sight,  and  missed  him,  diving  back  to  his  hiding-place  under 
the  rock,  to  wait  for  another.  '  All  the  better  for  me,  old 
chap  ! '  said  I,  and  in  less  than  two  minutes,  I  whipped  one 
across  the  pool  which  was  as  much  to  his  taste  it  seemed — " 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  caught  him  ?  "  asked  Ailsie,  press- 
ing forward,  with  circling  eyes  and  failing  color. 

"  Directly  below  what  you  call  your  bower,  girlie  !  You 
must  have  noticed  the  place.  It  looks  like  a  spring,  shut  in 
by  stones,  except  on  one  side." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  75 

A  scream  interrupted  him.  Ailsie  had  dropped  her  berry- 
basket,  and  was  fairly  dancing  with  anger  and  distress. 

"  It  was  my  beauty,  my  prince  !  my  dear  little  tame  trout ! " 
she  cried.  "  Mr.  Barry  !  do  you  see  what  this  bad,  bad  man 
has  done?  I  wish  you  had  fallen  in  yourself  and  been  drowned !" 

"  Ailsie ! " 

"  I  do,  papa !  He  is  a  cruel  monster !  He's  worse  than 
a  canni/fo//  /  I'll  never,  never  like  him,  or  speak  to. him  again. 
And  to  fool  the  dear  little  fellow  with  a  make-believe  dragon- 
fly, just  to  yank  him  out  with  a  hook  !  It's  too  sinful  and 
shameful  to  think  of!" 

Her  mother  tried  to  lead  her  away,  but  she  resisted  in  her 
frenzy,  wringing  her  hands  and  shrieking  out  fresh  denuncia- 
tions with  every  breath,  her  face  darkened  and  swollen  by 
passion. 

Her  father  laid  a  hard  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Ailsie !  hush  !  this  moment !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  Go  to 
your  room  and  stay  there  until  you  are  willing  to  ask  your 
uncle's  pardon.  Not  a  word  will  I  have  now!"  for  the 
writhing  lips  were  framing  speech.  "  What  I  say  I  mean. 
Go!" 

With  one  wild  sob  she  rushed  away,  and,  in  the  shocked 
pause  during  which  we  stood  looking  at  one  another,  we 
could  hear  her  stout  walking-shoes  storming  up  the  staircase 
and  along  the  upper  hall  to  her  chamber. 

Wynant  was  sorry  and  puzzled ;  Pressley,  more  displeased 
than  I  could  have  believed  he  could  be  with  his  best-loved 
child. 


76  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

"  Upon  my  soul  I  had  no  idea  she  could  cut  up  so  rough  ! " 
stammered  the  former.  "  If  Mount  Vernon's  '  summer  breeze' 
had  suddenly  waxed  into  a  tornado  I  couldn't  have  been 
more  astounded.  You  don't  suppose,  though,  that  the  little 
witch  really  recognized  the  trout  ?  Why  they  are  all  alike  as 
peas  in  the  same  pod." 

"  I  suppose  nothing,"  said  his  brother,  "  except  that  among 
us  we  are  spoiling  that  child  in  a  manner  that  is  both  foolish 
and  hurtful.  As  to  humoring  a  mad  whim  like  this,  and 
passing  over  such  language  and  behavior  as  she  has  just 
given  us  a  specimen  of,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  She 
ought  to  be  severely  punished,  and  she  shall  be,  if  she  do 
not  succumb  very  quickly." 

"  I  presume  I  come  in  for  my  full  share  of  your  condemna- 
tion of  the  conspiracy  of  spoilers,'1  I  said,  fretted  that  it  was 
not  easier  to  treat  pleasantly  with  him  after  his  harsh  dictum. 
"  I  hope  you  will  not  accuse  me  of  a  disposition  to  shirk 
censure  or  responsibility,  and  that  you  will  hear  me  patiently 
while  I  plead  my  client's  cause.  I  believe  that  I  understand 
better  than  anyone  else  here  the  reasons  for  what  you  con- 
sidered an  unprovoked  paroxysm  of  temper,  whereas  she  is 
chafing  under  actual  bereavement." 

I  told,  then,  the  history  of  my  introduction  to  the  disguised 
prince,  the  imaginary  friendship  between  him  and  his  human 
visitor,  describing  her  grief  when  I  hinted  at  the  possibility 
of  my  catching  him,  my  pledge  not  to  attempt  it,  and  the 
many  stories  she  had  confided  to  me  of  his  intelligence  and 
lameness.  Warming  into  true  partisan  sympathy  with  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  77 

telling,  I  looked  down  with  actual  pity  upon  the  dead  beauty 
lying  stark  upon  the  sward,  and  bethought  me  of  the  green- 
and-brown  nook,  cool  and  deep,  with  shade  of  tree  and  rock, 
from  which  he  had  been  ravished. 

"  Pure  fancy,  you  may  say,"  I  concluded,  speaking  as  much 
to  myself  as  to  those  about  me.  "But  those  of  us  who  have 
studied  Ailsie  do  not  need  to  be  reminded  how  much  of  her 
world  and  her  life  lies  in  the  realm  created  by  her  imagi- 
nation." 

My  appeal  was  not  without  instant  and  visible  effect.  The 
eyes  of  grandmother  and  mother  were  moist ;  Squire  Darling 
"guessed,"  bluntly,  that  "if  nobody  felt  more  like  eating  the 
baby's  plaything  than  he  did,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  while  to 
cook  it." 

Wynant's  concern  would  have  been  ludicrous  had  we  not 
been  more  or  less  partakers  in  it. 

"  It  does  seem  like  a  blamed  shame  ! "  he  confessed,  turn- 
ing the  slain  "  prince  "  over  on  the  soft  grass,  compunction 
in  visage  and  touch.  "Why  didn't  somebody  drop  me  a 
hint  to  steer  clear  of  that  particular  hole  ?  And  for  the 
poor  little  fool  to  fling  himself  right  in  my  teeth  was  the 
unluckiest  stroke  of  all.  I  say,  Pressley,  what  if  I  com- 
fort her  by  promising  to  bury  him  with  all  the  honors  of 
war  and  raise  a  tomb-stone  to  his  memory  ?  Wouldn't 
the  composition  of  the  epitaph  mitigate  matters  some- 
what ?  " 

Pressley's  sternness  did  not  relax. 

"  Ailsie  has  behaved  inexcusably !  "  he  said   shortly.     I 


78  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

suspected  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  many  words.  "  She 
shall  confess  her  fault  and  ask  her  uncle's  pardon, — or — " 

He  walked  off, — perhaps  to  cool  his  wrath — perhaps  to 
nurse  his  resolution. 

It  was  a  wretchedly  uncomfortable  evening.  We  all  sat 
upon  the  porch  in  the  moonlight  and  tried  to  comfort  our- 
selves as  upon  other  moonlighted  nights,  but  the  dreary  joc- 
ularity of  jests  and  the  palpable  machinery  of  the  common- 
places each  felt  in  duty  bound  to  keep  going  in  the  swing 
of  question  and  reply,  would  have  moved  us  to  genuine 
amusement  had  our  hearts  been  less  heavy.  The  absence  of 
the  blithe  figure  that  should  have  been  flitting  from  one  to 
the  other  with  merry  badinage  or  shy  caress,  or  sitting  with 
still  hands  and  musing  face  that  required  not  the  interpreta- 
tion of  spoken  language,  or  singing  with  the  moonlight  on 
her  uplifted  brow  and  such  melody  in  her  young  voice  as 
made  us  hold  our  breath  with  delight  and  awe — this  was  the 
sadder  burden  upon  thought  and  spirit  for  the  vision  the 
missing  her  conjured  up, — our  pet,  weeping  as  from  the 
sluiceways  of  a  breaking  heart  upon  her  little  bed  up-stairs. 
Weeping,  yet,  as  her  mother  reported,  in  grieved  amaze,  ob- 
durate to  persuasions,  deaf  to  the  arguments  with  which  she 
had  striven  to  bring  her  into  compliance  with  her  father's  will. 

"I  tremble  to  think  what  the  end  maybe,"  said  the  gentle 
parent,  watching  her  husband's  promenade  upon  the  lawn, 
his  cigar  his  solitary  counsellor.  "  Pressley  suffers  greatly, 
and,  I  dare  say,  is  secretly  repentant  that  he  raised  the  issue. 
But  he  will  not  give  up.  Nor  will  Ailsie  say  that  she  is  sorry. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  79 

It  is  their  first  pitched  battle,  and  their  mutual  love  makes  it 
more  serious." 

"  Pressley  is  making  a  particular  donkey  of  himself,  and 
trying  to  make  me  seem  a  brute  to  the  child,"  growled 
Wynant.  "  If  I  had  my  way  she  should  be  down  here  on  the 
double  quick,  hearing  me  say  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  ever 
learned  to  cast  a  fly.  You  don't  believe,  Annie,  that  he'll 
really — punish  her  if  she  don't  come  in  to  his  measures? 
By  George  !  if  he  should  lay  the  weight  of  his  finger  upon 
her,  I'd  punch  his  head  for  him ! " 

It  was  a  family  quarrel  with  which  I  should  have  had  no 
concern,  but  my  blood  ran  first  cold,  then,  like  liquid  fire  at 
the  suggestion  of  such  brutality. 

"  It  would  kill  her  !  "  escaped  me,  before  I  could  consult 
with  discretion. 

The  grandmother  signed  audibly.  I  saw  the  Squire  shake 
his  white  head  in  earnest  disapproval,  whether  of  parental 
discipline  or  of  unwarrantable  interference  with  the  same,  I 
did  not  ask. 

"  How  still  the  night  is  ! "  observed  Pressley,  in  a  tone  of 
serene  indifference,  returning  to  the  porch.  "  You  can  hear 
the  roar  of  the  milldam,  two  miles  off." 

No  one  offered  a  reply  to  this  remark  addressed  to  the 
company  at  large.  Since  he  did  not  deign  to  notice  the 
prevalent  depression,  or  to  soothe  the  perturbation  which 
was  the  fruit  of  his  harshness,  we  were  not  disposed  to  second 
his  motion  toward  conciliation.  We  were  behaving  like 
sulky  children,  but  the  revolt  was  general. 


8o  MY  LITTLE  L O VE. 

"  We  shall  have  a  hot  night,  if  the  breeze  do  not  come  up 
from  the  river  by  midnight,"  he  pursued,  coolly  ignoring  our 
silence. 

The  words  were  yet  upon  his  lips  when  something  white 
and  noiseless  floated  around  the  shaded  corner  of  the  house. 
It  was  Ailsie, — a  wrapper  of  her  mother's  thrown  on  over  her 
night-dress,  her  feet  bare  and  her  hands  clenched  tightly 
upon  the  trailing  drapery  gathered  up  and  held  against  her 
breast  to  leave  her  steps  free.  She  paid  no  attention  to  the 
sitters  in  the  background.  I  doubt  if  she  was  aware  of  our 
presence.  Her  father  stood  upon  the  upper  step  of  the 
porch,  and  she  went  directly  up  to  him. 

"Papa?"  catching  her  breath  in  the  rapidity  of  her  artic- 
ulation. "  You  wouldn't  have  me  tell  a  lie  ?  How  can  I  say 
that  I  am  sorry  for  what  I  said  to  Uncle  Wy,  if  I  am  not?" 

Wynant  started  forward.  His  sister-in-law  held  him  down. 
The  moon  showed  us  every  line  of  the  tear-blotched  visage, 
deathly  pallid,  but  for  these  stains ;  the  wide,  imploring  eyes 
filled  with  such  agony  and  such  love  as  made  my  heart  ache 
to  look  upon ;  as  wrings  it  more  keenly  to  recall.  The 
father's  features  were  in  the  shadow  of  his  hat-brim.  His 
voice  was  firm,  but  not  threatening. 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  sorry,  Ailsie.  That  you  are  not, 
shows  that  you  are  not  subdued ;  that  you  are  obstinate  in 
your  naughtiness.  I  can  have  nothing  to  say  or  do  with  you 
until  you  are  sorry,  and  will  say  so." 

"  Papa  !  "  Something  was  in  her  throat,  and  she  had  to 
swallow  it  before  going  on.  "  I  have  been  thinking  it  all 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  81 

over.  If  a  wicked  man  was  to  kill  me  by  mistake,  for  some- 
body else's  child,  would  you  feel  like  asking  his  pardon  if  you 
did  call  him  a  few  bad  names  ?" 

There  was  a  subdued  rustle  in  the  background,  of  feeling, 
or  suppressed  applause. 

"  That  is  ridiculous,  Ailsie.     A  fish  is  not  a  child." 

Nevertheless,  his  hand  moved  to  his  mouth  to  cover  the 
twitching  I  did  not  believe  was  a  disposition  to  laugh. 

"  Papa ! "  She  had  to  brace  herself  upon  the  beloved 
name,  at  the  beginning  of  each  argument.  "  It  seems  fool- 
ish to  you,  because  you  are  a  grown  man.  But  I  did  like  my 
poor  little  trout  very  much,  and  I  had  such  happy  times 
making  up  stories  about  him  that  I  got  almost  to  believing 
they  were  true.  And  so  many  things  I  have  loved  and  tried 
to  tame,  this  summer,  have  died,  or  been  taken  away  from 
me.  Not  big  things,  of  course,  tha.ty0iSd  care  for.  But  I 
am  not  such  a  very  big  girl,  yet,  you  know  ! " 

Piteous  little  mousie  !  She  had  never  looked  so  babyish 
before  in  my  eyes.  She  had  fastened  her  hands  upon  one 
of  his,  her  eyes  larger  and  deeper  in  the  extremity  of  her 
entreaty. 

"  Papa !  I  am  sorry  that  I  vexed  you.  Ever  so  sorry ! 
It  hurts  me  dreadfully  when  you  are  angry  with  me.  I'll 
ask  your  pardon,  fifty — a  hundred  times  ! " 

"  That  will  not  do,  my  daughter.     You  were  exceedingly 

rude  and  unkind  to  your  uncle  who  was  not  to  blame  for 

what  he  had  done.     You  gave  way  to  your  temper,  sinfully 

and  shamefully,  and  called  him  names  I  am  ashamed  to 

4* 


82  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

remember.  I  am  mortified  that  my  girl  is  not  brave  enough 
to  say  that  she  was  naughty  and  ask  his  forgiveness  for  her 
behavior  to  him." 

She  shrank  as  if  he  had  slapped  her  in  the  face,  at  the 
charge  of  cowardice,  but  did  not  lose  her  ground.  After  a 
longer  pause  than  had  preceded  it,  came  her  final  attempt  at 
honorable  compromise. 

"  Papa  !    I  will  forgive  him  !    Won't  that  do  as  well  ?  " 

"  Bravo  ! "  shouted  Wynant,  unable  to  restrain  himself 
longer. 

His  brother  strove  vainly  to  make  himself  heard  amid 
simultaneous  acclamations  and  noisy  clapping  of  hands  from 
the  spectators  of  the  painful  scene. 

Seeing  him  waver,  and  encouraged  by  our  sympathy,  Ailsie 
sprang  to  his  neck  with  an  hysterical  cry  that  hushed  the 
uproar. 

"  Papa !     Papa ! " 

Nothing  else — repeated  in  every  intonation  of  reproachful 
and  grateful  tenderness,  until  she  began  to  sob  again. 

He  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and  bore  her  away  as  he  might 
an  infant,  and  we  saw  neither  of  them  again  that  night. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HEADACHE   AND   DIPLOMACY. 

HAD  anticipated  some  disagreeable  scenes 
at  my  boarding-house,  as  the  consequence  of 
my  intimacy  with  the  Gaskins'  "high-strung" 
neighbors.  But  the  pious  and  censorious  trio 
so  far  adopted  the  policy  of  the  children  of  this 
generation,  as  to  regard  with  extreme  leniency  my 
preference  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt — to  wit,  the 
savory  fare  that  graced  Mrs.  Darling's  board — over 
the  tough  and  salted  meats  that  were  in  sober  liter- 
alness  the  pieces  de  resistance  of  the  Gaskin  menu  ; 
and  for  the  profane  and  foolish  babblings  of  the  society  in 
which  I  discussed  the  daintily-cooked  viands,  over  the  talk 
that  seasoned  yet  more  unpalatably,  the  corned  beef  and 
pork,  cabbage  and  onions,  salt  fish,  waxy  potatoes  and  heavy 
bread,  not  forgetting  the  "  biled  dinners "  in  which  Ezra's 
soul  delighted.  If  the  supposition  had  not  been  too  wild  to 
be  nurtured  into  belief,  I  could  have  fancied  that  they  re- 
spected their  lodger  the  more  because  of  the  favor  with  which 
he  was  received  at  the  objectionable  Squire's ;  that  they 
rolled  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  their  tongues  the  complaints 
they  vented  to  neighborhood  visitors  as  to  "  how  little  they 


84  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

saw  of  Mr.  Haye,  now  that  the  Squire's  folks  were  fair  crazy 
after  him.  But  'twasrit  to  be  wondered  at,  considerin'.  Let 
the  Squire  and  his'n  alone  for  findin'  out  and  courtin'  rich 
and  fash'nable  strangers  ;" — in  short,  that  they  basked  their 
little  souls  contentedly  in  the  feeble  glare  reflected  from  iny 
social  importance  upon  them  as  my  hosts. 

I  was,  at  all  events,  grateful  that  they  refrained  from 
verbal  reprehension  of  my  conduct  in  spending  more  than 
half  my  time  away  from  my  paid-for  lodgings,  presumably, 
with  some  member  of  the  "  big  bug  "  confederacy.  Not  that 
I  was  deceived  by  this  show  of  Christian  forbearance  into 
the  persuasion  that  the  coals  of  small,  mean  jealousies  were 
not  smouldering  within  the  breasts  of  the  elder  and  his 
spouse,  or  that  the  sharp-eyed  grand-dame  had  not  her  feeble 
share  of  inward  burnings  at  my  "  taking-up  "  with  those  who 
were  immeasurably  their  superiors,  although  born  in  the 
same  walk  in  life. 

I  understood,  therefore,  in  its  length  and  breadth — I  should 
say,  in  its  narrowness  and  shallowness — the  meaning  of  the 
feigned  condolence  that  met,  one  morning,  my  announce- 
ment that  a  severe  sick-headache  prevented  me  from  touch- 
ing so  much  as  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  my  withdrawal  to  the 
porch,  there  to  lie  at  full  length  upon  the  bench,  while  my 
room  was  cleared  up. 

"  Housed — hey  ?  "  commented  Ezra,  stopping  so  close  to 
me,  on  his  way  a-field  as  to  nauseate  me  anew  with  the  smell 
of  stable  and  barn-yard  given  forth  freely  by  his  corduroy 
trowsers  and  cowhide  boots.  "  That's  a  pity,  now — ain't  it  ? 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  85 

For,  I  make  no  doubt  there's  some  spree  or  racketing  of 
some  sort  'pinted  for  to-day.  I  never  see  the  time  I  could  go 
off  a-pleasurin',  with  an  easy  conscience,  and  leave  the  farm  ; 
but  Squire's  a  gentleman-farmer,  and  makes  up  in  book-larn- 
in'  for  the  sweat  of  his  face.  'Cordin'  to  the  new-fangled 
religion  so  many's  runnin'  after,  the  Good  Book  ain't  always 
on  the  square  'bout  these  things.  You  do  look  powerful  sick  ! 
Ef  you  feel  to  want  to  send  any  excuses,  or  messages,  or  any- 
thing to  your  friends,  over  the  crick,  I'll  manage  to  get  'em 
there,  somehow  or  'nother.  I  ain't  so  ruleable  as  some,  but 
I'm  willin'  to  be  'commodatin'  when  it  comes  into  my  way." 

"Thank  you  !  I  have  no  message  to  send,"  I  answered, 
faintly,  holding  my  breath  as  long  as  I  could. 

By  the  time  the  clatter  of  his  shambling  feet  upon  the 
gravel  walk  had  died  away,  and  before  the  effluvia  had  begun 
to  depart,  his  wife  called  to  me  from  the  kitchen-window. 

"  I  'spose  we'll  have  the  pleasure  of  yer  company  to 
dinner,  Mr.  H.,  seein'  as  how  you  can't  git  away  very  easy." 

She  chuckled  spitefully  over  the  dish  she  was  wiping,  and 
the  grand-dame's  wrinkled  visage  peered  at  me,  under  her 
elbow,  to  see  what  the  laugh  was  about.  Perceiving  my 
prostrate  condition,  she  hobbled  out  to  me,  her  breath  rattling 
asthmatically  in  her  shrunken  chest. 

"  Bilious — be  ye  ?  "  stooping  to  scan  my  skin  through  her 
glasses.  "  Deary  me  !  And  the  almond-tree  shall  flourish 
and  all  the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought  low.  Guess 
ye  must  'a'  got  kinder  stirred  up,  trampoosin'  'round  so  much 
in  the  sun.  I  never  had  no  'pinion  of  these  kitin'  ways. 


86  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

People  allers  on  the  go  for  pomps  and  vanity,  and  the  pride 
of  the  flesh.  Ye're  dretful  yaller  !  I  should'nt  wonder  a 
mite  ef  ye  was  goin'  to  have  the  janders.  All  ye  can  do  is 
to  try  to  cultivate  a  cheerful  sperrit  and  a  patient  dispersition. 
The  young  lions  lack  and  suffer  hunger,  ye  mind.  And  if 
at  any  time  you  feel  that  a  cup  o'  tea — sage,  or  catnip,  or  pen- 
nyr'yal,  or  boughten  tea — would  comfort  yer  inwards,  neither 
me  nor  'Liza  Jane  would  grudge  puttin'  on  the  kittle  for  ye." 

"  Thank  you  ! "  I  said,  again,  stifling  a  groan. 

I  was  at  her  mercy  and  she  did  not  slight  her  "  privileges." 

"Young  folks  think  old  people  fools,"  she  pursued,  breath- 
ing more  rattlingly  in  her  earnestness.  "  Old  folks  know 
young  people  to  be  fools  !  Man/s  the  time  I've  heard  my 
granny  say  that.  It's  enough  to  put  ye  into  mind  of  yer 
latter  end,  hevin'  so  many  bad  turns.  The  old  must  die. 
The  young  may  die.  A  whip  for  the  horse,  a  bridle  for  the 
ass,  and  a  rod  for  the  fool's  back.  He  also  that  is  slothful 
in  his  work  is  brother  to  him  that  is  a  great  waster.  We 
have  scripter  for  that.  Say  what  you  will,  ther"  ain't  no 
rubbin'  that  out.  You're  young,  and  gay,  and  flighty  now, 
but  for  all  you  know,  yer  time  may  be  at  hand.  And  if  ye 
should  want  the  tea,  you'll  let  me  or  Liza  Jane  know.  I 
hope  we  are  Christians  and  wouldn't  be  back'ard  to  do  our 
jeuty  by  a  sufferin"  fellow  critter." 

She  rattled  her  old  bones  back  to  her  daughter-in-law, 
and  I  heard  the  two  beating  up  my  feather  bed,  with  an  eye 
to  my  immediate  occupancy  of  the  same,  the  strokes  sound- 
ing like  the  swing  of  a  flail. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  87 

Feathers !  ugh  !  How  my  unquiet  stomach  protested 
against  entering  that  low-browed  chamber  again,  and  still 
more  strenuously  against  laying  my  head,  and  nose,  upon  the 
never  too  fragrant  pillow  until  driven  to  it  by  sheerest  neces- 
sity. I  rolled  off  the  bench  and  staggered  to  the  furthest 
limit  of  the  yard,  where  I  stretched  myself,  helpless  as  a  log, 
on  the  grass,  more  miserable  than  any  other  physical  derange- 
ment could  have  made  me,  unless  it  were  sea-sickness. 

Nobody  discovered  me  in  the  covert  of  a  clump  of  lilac- 
bushes,  and  being  out  of  hearing  of  the  shrill  clack  of  my 
tormentors'  tongues,  I  did  not  lift  my  head  until  the  horn 
blew  once,  and  again,  more  discordantly,  for  dinner.  Then 
I  but  dragged  my  heavy  limbs  to  the  kitchen  door  to  say 
that  I  wanted  nothing  to  eat,  and  this,  although  a  "  b'iled 
dinner  "  reeked  mountainously  in  front  of  Mrs.  Ezra,  who 
"  did  "  the  carving.  Retreating  incontinently  before  inqui- 
ries and  odor,  I  made  a  half-circuit  of  the  house,  and  sat 
down,  exhausted,  upon  the  steps  of  a  small  porch  in  the 
north  gable,  and  rather  cooler  at  this  hour,  than  the  eastern 
"stoop."  I  think  I  dozed,  with  my  head  laid  upon  a  chair 
that  happened  to  be  there — a  green  wooden  chair  with  an 
arched  back,  slender  spokes  supporting  the  curve,  and  an 
inexplicable  projecting  hump  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the 
edge  of  the  seat.  I  am  quite  sure  that  no  one  came  near 
me  for  a  long  while.  I  know  it  grew  hotter  every  minute, 
and  the  air  seemed  to  close  like  an  invisible  thumb  and  fin- 
ger, upon  my  nostrils,  occasionally  obliging  me  to  open  my 
mouth  to  get  my  breath. 


88  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

Perhaps  it  is  because  I  had  never  been  ill  before,  that  I 
recollect  with  curious  distinctness  the  physical  experiences 
of  that  year.  It  was  assuredly  for  this  reason  that  they 
appeared  to  me  exceptional  while  undergoing  them.  They 
ought  to  have  made  a  man  of  me,  or  so  I  argued,  that  day, 
within  my  drunken  brain.  They  were  a  part,  and  I  hoped 
devoutly  there  was  nothing  worse  behind,  of  the  discipline  of 
life.  With  something  akin  to  the  maudlin  gravity  of  the 
tipsy  philosopher,  who,  prone  in  the  gutter,  or  backed  up  by 
a  lamp-post,  proceeds  to  the  study  of  the  analogy  between  "  the 
leaves  that  have  their  time  to  fall,  "  and  "  I  " — I  analyzed 
and  moralized  upon  my  sensations.  I  was  in  the  furnace  of 
affliction,  or,  as  the  teeth  of  pain  tore  at  the  reticulated 
nerves  of  my  scalp,  threshed  and  winnowed.  Or,  altering 
the  figure  at  the  bidding  of  my  heaving  diaphragm,  tossed  by 
contrary  winds  and  chopping  seas.  Once,  there  rushed 
over  me,  in  a  lucid  interval,  such  a  yearning  for  sight  and 
touch  of  the  mother  who  had  died  when  I  was  five  years 
old,  that  I  could  have  wept  aloud  with  loneliness  and  home- 
sickness. I  have  never,  since  the  summer  that  taught  me  so 
much,  spoken  lightly  of  bodily  anguish,  or  underrated  the 
weight  of  its  influence  upon  human  character  and  immortal 
destinies. 

Hitherto,  I  had  believed  that  the  bent  of  my  mind  and 
taste  lay  decidedly  in  the  direction  of  psychological  and 
metaphysical  research.  Under  the  anointment  of  personal 
suffering,  I  unclosed  my  eyes  to  the  truth  that  the  most 
intricate  lines  of  these  were  so  intertwisted  with  the  subtle 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  89 

laws  and  analogies  of  physiology  that  they  could  be  most 
dexterously  untangled  by  the  student  of  the  latter.  If  in  my 
choice  of  a  profession  for  life  I  have  acted  wisely  for  my- 
self, beneficently  for  others,  I  ought  not  to  regret  that  the 
furnace,  threshing  floor,  and  stormy  waves  were  to  me,  for 
the  time,  horrible  realities,  which  taxed  the  utmost  fortitude 
of  my  manhood.  They  certainly  showed  me  what  a  toy  of 
circumstance  this  same  vaunted  manhood  was.  The  "  Give 
me  some  drink,  Titinius  !  "  of  Caesar's  fever-dried  lips  took 
on  new  and  awful  meaning.  He  arose  superior  to  the  fear 
of  the  last  enemy,  when  he  wrapped  his  robe  about  his  head 
and  lay  down  as  to  natural  slumber  at  the  foot  of  great 
Pompey's  statue.  The  girlish  cry  to  his  attendant  was  the 
peevish  protest  of  cowed  nature  beaten  to  the  dust  by  a 
master  mightier  than  death — Disease.  All  through  those 
months  of  positive  illness  and  fluctuating  convalescence, 
there  had  been  growing  within  me  the  conviction  that  he 
who  should  arm  himself  for  battle  with  this  potent  foe  of 
human  happiness  and  usefulness,  would  go  forth  to  the 
noblest  crusade  possible  to  man,  if  we  except  that  which 
engages  the  Michael  of  moral  mould  in  direct  conflict  with 
the  devil  and  his  angels. 

I  did  not  reason  or  resolve  coherently  while  sick-head- 
ache had  the  mastery,  and  demoralization  was  its  perfected 
work.  But  one  definite  thought  found  footing  in  my  con- 
sciousness. If  this  attack  had  supervened  upon  the  fever 
of  two  months  before,  I  should,  undoubtedly,  have  suc- 
cumbed to  it  as  the  sheep  to  the  butcher's  axe ;  and  I  was 


90  '    MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

sorry  it  had  not !  In  that  case,  I  should  not  now  be  lying 
in  the  throes  of  living  dissolution.  I  was  sinfully  ungrateful 
for  the  gain  of  strength  that  enabled  me  to  maintain  the  con- 
flict with  the  pain  that  racked  me  to  faintness,  with  the  faint- 
ness  from  which  I  struggled  back  to  pain. 

And  still  the  air  grew  hotter  and  more  lifeless.  The  leaves 
and  green  bells  of  the  hop-vines  climbing  over  the  porch, 
hung  motionless,  save  when  jarred  by  the  uneasy  toss  of 
my  hand,  or  the  tortured  turn  of  my  whole  body.  The 
grasshoppers  sang  in  the  parched  turf  in  a  shrill  key  that 
pierced  my  ears  like  fine  twisted  wire,  and  when  one  stopped 
to  recover  wind,  the  others  kept  on.  Through  the  irregular 
arch  made  by  the  drooping  vines  above  the  steps,  was  visible 
a  section  of  sky  like  white  steel  for  hardness  and  gleam,  that 
smote  me  blind  whenever  I  raised  my  swollen  lids.  Once,  I 
bethought  me  that  decease  in  a  bed-room,  even  under  a 
slanting  roof  and  upon  a  feather  bed,  would  be  more  deco- 
rous and  would  seem  more  creditable  when  related  in  the 
obituary  column  of  a  newspaper,  than  to  be  found  stark — 
could  I  ever  be  cold  ? — like  a  defunct  cur  that  had  crept 
under  the  vines  to  breathe  his  last,  unmolested  by  curiosity 
or  taunts.  But  I  thought,  also,  of  the  sun  streaming  upon  the 
sloping  wall,  and  the  rattle  and  smells  of  the  kitchen  invading 
door  and  windows,  and  the  probable  visits  of  mother  and 
daughter-in-law,  and  lay  still,  awaiting  merciful  insensibility. 

The  roll  of  wheels  on  the  dusty  road,  harshly  audible  in 
the  dead  stillness,  stopped  for  an  instant  opposite  the  farm- 
house. There  was  a  murmur  of  voices — a  brief  colloquy, 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  91 

and  the  wheels  went  on  down  the  hill.  The  incident  was 
less  than  nothing  to  me  at  the  moment.  It  would  never 
have  meant  anything,  but  that  the  scorched  grass  crackled, 
presently,  as  under  a  rabbit's  tread,  and  a  shadow  halted  be- 
tween me  and  the  cruel  light  of  the  sky. 

"  Oh ! " 

The  gasp  of  amazement  and  distress  brought  me  to  my 
senses.  I  sat  up,  holding  my  temples  between  my  palms,  in 
the  conviction  that  the  sutures  of  the  skull  were  gaping, 
and  forlornly  hoping  to  keep  the  sundered  sides  in 
place. 

"Oh!"  reiterated  the  sweet  voice.  "You  are  sick? 
What  can  I  do  for  you?  Why  didn't  you  come  to  grand- 
pa's? Or  send  us  word  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  worth  while,"  I  managed  to  get  out.  ' '  It  is 
only  a  sick-headache.  It  means  nothing !  " 

After  which  mendacious  statement,  I  subsided  into 
recumbency,  my  arms  doubled  under  my  bursting  head,  and 
groaned  abjectly. 

Ailsie  knelt  on  the  floor  and  put  two  chubby  cool  hands 
upon  my  eyes — momentary  relief  from  fever  and  glare  that 
was  inexpressibly  grateful.  Before  the  heat  could  return, 
she  laid  her  folded  handkerchief  over  them  instead  of  the 
caressing  ringers. 

"  Lie  still  until  I  come  back ! "  she  whispered,  and  sped 
around  to  the  seldom  opened  front-door,  where  she  knocked 
imperatively. 

In  the  hot  hush  that  lay  about  me  seeming  to  enfold  me 


92  M Y  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

as  its  centre,  I  overheard  the  dialogue  which  followed  Mrs. 
Ezra's  appearance  in  response  to  the  summons. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Mrs.  Gaskin  !  I  am  Ailsie  Darling. 
My  Uncle  Wynant  left  me  here  just  now,  to  pay  a  call  to 
my  friend  Mr.  Haye.  He  is  lying  in  the  porch  around  that 
side  of  the  house  suffering  dreadfully  with  a  headache.  I 
suppose  he  wouldn't  tell  you  anything  about  it  for  fear  of 
worrying  you  and  giving  you  the  trouble  of  nursing  him. 
He  is  very  particular  about  troubling  other  people." 

With  all  my  pain  and  nausea  I  smiled  at  my  delicate  con- 
sideration for  my  hostess'  sensibilities. 

"  He  ought  to  have  let  you  know,  for  a  headache  is  a 
very  bad  disease.  And  men  don't  understand  how  to  nurse 
themselves.  If  it  would  not  be  putting  you  to  too  much 
trouble,  mayn't  I  bring  him  into  that  nice  parlor  and  lay 
him  down  upon  the  sofa  for  a  while  ?  He  shan't  bother 
you  and  we  won't  put  your  furniture  the  leastest  partickel 
out  of  order.  I  should  like  to  take  care  of  him  until  my 
uncle  calls  by  for  me." 

"  In  the  east  stoop  did  you  say  ?  "  interrogated  Mrs.  Ezra 
in  unpromising  accents.  "  What's  to  hender  him  from  go  in' 
up  to  his  own  room  and  layin'  down  like  a  Christian  onto  as 
good  a  feather  bed  as  any  man  sick  or  well  need  ever  want? 
Mother  'n'  me — we  made  it  up  extra  early  in  the  day  on  a 
purpose.  I  hain't  no  opinion  o'  sech  airs." 

"  Maybe  his  head  is  dizzy,"  answered  the  other  voice. 
"  My  Aunt  Evy  often  has  sick-headaches,  and  she  can't 
move  hardly — her  head  swims  so  badly." 


Jfy  LITTLE  L  0  VE.  93 

"Yer  Aunt  Evy  !  Who's  she?  Ther  ain't  none  o'  yer 
pa's  folks  what  hez  that  name,"  waxing  conversational  at 
the  sniff  of  gossip. 

"  She  is  my  mamma's  sister." 

'*  Ah !  married  or  single  ?  " 

"  She  isn't  married,  I  suj-pose  she  must  be  single.  But 
she  is  very  nice." 

"  Whaf  s  her  last  name  ?  " 

"  Miss  Marr,"  laconically. 

"  Young  or  old  ?  " 

••  I  don't  think  she's  quite  either." 

From  the  changed  direction  of  the  sounds,  I  judged  that 
Ailsie  had  backed  off  the  steps,  keeping  her  face  turned  to 
the  catechist — also  keeping  her  temper  well  in  hand. 

"  I  may  take  Mr.  Have  into  the  parlor,  mayn't  I  ?  "  she 
continued.  "  It  looks  very  cool  and  pleasant  in  there." 

A  grunt  between  satisfaction  and  sarcasm  from  my  land- 
lady. 

"Thought  likely  you  was  used  to  sech  fine  doin's  in  town 
and  over  to  gran'pa's,  you  wouldn't  care  to  look  at  my  par- 
lor, let  alone  set  down  into  it." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  very  comfortable.  I  should  like  to  go  in 
very  much." 

The  diplomatist  was  still  backing  nearer  to  me,  but  con- 
sistent in  her  policy  of  civility.  "  I  will  run  around  and  tell 
him  what  you  say  about  his  coming  in  out  of  the  sunshine. 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

All  this  in  her  tuneful,  childish  treble,  and  with  the  simple 


94  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

grace  of  naturalness  that  made  her  address  always  impres- 
sive. Before  I  could  call  her  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
permission  she  had  taken  for  granted  had  not  been  accorded, 
either  directly  or  by  implication,  the  house-door  that  opened 
upon  the  small  porch  was  unlocked,  and  Mrs.  Ezra,  grimly 
compliant,  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  Head  ain't  no  better,  hey  ?  Ef  you  won't  go  to  bed, 
hadn't  you  better  step  inside  and  lay  down  on  the  sofy  in  the 
best  room  ?  It's  as  easy  as  settin'  here  in  the  blazin'  hot 
sun." 

She  led  the  way.  I  followed,  not  too  steadily,  flame-col- 
ored mists  dancing  before  my  eyes,  the  roar  and  thump  of  a 
steam-engine  in  my  brain.  Ailsie  clung  to  my  hand,  planting 
her  feet  with  great  care,  in  the  belief  that  she  stayed  my  steps 
and  averted  possible  disasters  from  my  dizziness.  The  par- 
lor had  been  swept  and  aired  that  forenoon,  it  being  the 
allotted  day  of  the  week  for  the  performance  of  this  solemn 
ceremony.  The  air  was  deliciously  cool  after  the  furnace 
radiation  of  that  without,  and  the  darkness  was  yet  more 
delightful.  The  sofa  was  covered  with  hair-cloth  (of  course), 
and  slippery  as  glass  ;  but  when  Ailsie  had  brought  a  pillow 
from  my  bed,  and  spread  over  the  cotton  slip  encasing  it  the 
smooth  linen  handkerchief  which  had  blindfolded  me  in  the 
glaring  porch,  I  let  down  the  leaden  misery  I  was  wont  to 
name  my  head  cautiously  upon  it,  yet  binding  my  temples 
hard,  that  the  cracking  articulations  of  the  sutures  might  not 
be  utterly  disorganized,  and  found  tongue  to  declare  myself 
comfortable — or  that  I  must  be,  by-and-by. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW   THE    OLD   TREE     FELL. 

*Y  eyelids  ached  and  were  flabby,  requiring  an 
effort  of  will,  as  well   as   of  muscle,  to   raise 
them.     Succeeding  in   the  attempt  when   the 
engine-play  ceased  to  strike  sparks  like  lurid 
pyrotechny  through  or  athwart  my  eye-balls,  I  saw 
that  Mrs.  Gaskin  had  added  to  the  favor  of  admit- 
ting me  to  the  "  best  room  "  that  of  leaving  us  to 
our  own  devices.     In  the  cool  dusk  of  the  quiet 
parlor,  my  little  guardian  stood  by  me,  watchful  of 
every  gesture,  waiting  patiently  until  I  was   ready 
to  be  spoken  to. 

"You  are  an  angel,  Ailsie  !  " 

She  put  her  hand  upon  my  mouth.  I  held  it  there. 
"  Fie  !  "  said  my  mentor,  in  the  accent  of  a  pmde  of  the 
first  water — or  ice.  "  You  are  getting  rtY-lir-i-ous.  Or  fool- 
isher  than  common.  You  must  behave  properly,  or  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  go  away.  Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  for 
me  to  call  Mrs.  Gaskin  back.  If  you  would  per-tzx  her 
nursing,  you  have  only  to  say  the  word." 

I  professed  penitence,  and  engaged  to  be  preternaturally 
docile  if  she  would  stay  by  me. 


g6  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  And  not  call  in  the  dragon !  "  I  subjoined. 

"  That  is  unthankful !  "  I  was  admonished.  "  'Tenny 
rate,  the  dragon's  den  isn't  a  bad  place." 

The  quaint  deftness  of  her  small  preparations  for  the  bus- 
iness of  the  afternoon  was  something  to  see,  if  one's  skull 
was  splitting,  his  stomach  void  and  rebellious.  First,  she 
bowed  a  pair  of  the  solid  wooden  shutters  to  let  in  a  crack 
of  light.  This  must  be  kept  out  of  my  eyes,  while  it  was 
needed  to  show  her  the  way  about  the  apartment,  and  a 
high-backed  rocking-chair  was  pulled  between  me  and  the 
narrow  ray.  Next,  she  made  choice  betwixt  two  worked 
footstools,  standing  so  exactly  opposite  to  one  another  at  the 
corners  of  the  hearthstone  one  might  have  believed  they 
were  screwed  fast  to  the  floor.  The  selection  was  a  subject 
for  thought.  She  looked  long  at  one,  then  at  its  mate.  The 
pattern,  wrought  in  very  cross-stitch  with  aggressively  vivid 
crewels,  upon  the  first,  was  a  medallion  head  of  Gen.  Wash- 
ington. Upon  the  fellow,  as  a  companion  design,  was  a  par- 
rot, and  this  she  at  length  brought  to  my  side,  settling  her 
white  dress  about  her  for  a  protracted  sitting. 

"Now,  if  you  can  get  a  long  nap,  you  will  wake  up 
almost  well.  That5 s  Aunt  Evy's  plan." 

"  Dear  child ! "  I  said,  "  I  cannot  think  of  your  moping 
here  in  the  dark.  If  you  are  so  kind  as  to  insist  upon 
sitting  by  me,  get  a  book  to  amuse  you,  and  open  the 
shutters  wide." 

"  Hush-sh-sh  !  I  enjoy  sitting  in  the  dark  and  thinking. 
And — "  the  ever-ready  flash  of  fun  leaping  to  her  eyes,  while 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE,  97 

her  lips  were  demure,  "  if  I  wanted  to  read,  there's  nothing 
on  the  table  there,  but  Johnson  Walker's  Dictionary,  an 
Almanac,  and  a  monstracious  family  Bible.  Go  to  sleep,  my 
dear ;  we'll  make-believe  I'm  your  aunty  come  to  nurse  you. 
Or — "  laughing,  now,  all  over  her  face — "  you  can  shut  your 
eyes  very  tight,  and  play  it's  your  loved  Mrs.  Gaskin  watch- 
ing over  you." 

I  affected  to  shiver.  "  I  would  rather  go  back  to  the 
porch  and  the  wooden-bottomed  chair  with  the  lump  in  the 
middle.  My  respected  landlady  seems  to  have  made  an 
impression  upon  you,  Ailsie." 

"  I  should  think  she  might  upon  anybody.  But  no  more 
backbiting  or  talk  of  any  sort !  " 

She  took  my  hand  upon  one  of  hers  and  stroked  it  with 
the  other,  the  soft  finger-tips  sending  tiny  rills  of  magnetic 
soothing  along  the  nerves.  Pretty  soon  she  laid  it  back 
gently  on  the  sofa  and  tiptoed  to  the  mantel,  where  she  had 
espied  a  fan.  Even  in  her  manner  of  using  it  she  was 
unlike  other  children ;  evinced  more  tact  and  skill  than  are 
possessed  by  most  professional  nurses.  The  cooler  air  was 
a  zephyr  that  did  not  lift  a  hair.  The  fan  never  came  so 
near  me  as  to  tickle  my  face,  or  creak  in  my  ear.  It  was  a 
wide-bespread  feather  machine,  however,  and  lest  the 
weight  should  weary  her  wrist,  I  arrested  the  action. 

f '  Would  you  mind  singing  to  me,  girlie  ?  I  begin  to  be 
sleepy." 

She  sang  as  naturally  as  she  breathed.  I  have  spoken  of 
her  voice  as  one  of  singular  compass  and  sweetness,  and 
5 


98  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

being  joined  to  a  quick  ear,  it  had  gained  for  her  at  this 
early  age  the  reputation  of  a  musical  prodigy.  Her  parents 
were  careful  that  praises  of  the  rare  gift  should  be  dealt  out 
judiciously  to  her.  If  she  surmised  what  was  likely  to  be  in 
the  future  the  value  of  her  talent,  she  concealed  it  well. 
Her  vocalization  was  as  artless  as  that  of  a  wood-thrush. 

That  day,  after  two  or  three  more  modern  ballads,  she 
sang  Kathleen  O'More.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  had 
never  heard  it  before.  I  was  falling  asleep  as  she  began  to 
croon  it,  very  lowly,  that  she  might  not  recall  me  from  the 
misty  land. 

"  My  love,  still  I  think  that  I  see  her  once  more, 
But  ah,  she  has  left  me  her  loss  to  deplore — 
My  own  little  Kathleen,  my  sweet  little  Kathleen, 
My  Kathleen  O'More  !  " 

The  rest  was  as  simple.  A  poor  little  tale,  trite  and  bald 
in  terms,  common  enough  in  the  happening,  but  this  child's 
rendering  made  of  it  a  succession  of  "  pictures  from  life." 

The  gentle  milkmaid,  "her  hair  glossy  black,  her  eyes 
dark-blue ; "  the  pensive  figure  on  the  cottage  door-step  ; 
the  smitten  flower  never  lifted  after  the  sweep  of  the  chill 
night-wind  ;  the  bright  corner  of  the  old  country  church-yard, 
away  from  the  shadow  of  yew-tree  or  mossy  and  moulder- 
ing wall,  yet  a  corner  where  the  robin  built  his  nest  and 
hopped  lightly  and  fearlessly  upon  Kathleen's  grave ;  these 
I  saw,  without  the  "  making  believe "  the  songstress  was 
fond  of  recommending  as  an  important  means  of  securing 
enjoyment  in  this  work-a-day  world. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  99 

"  That  is  very  beautiful !  "  I  murmured,  without  opening 
my  eyes,  as  my  imagination  appropriated  the  last  and  most 
pathetic  sketch. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it.  It  is  my  very  favorite  ! "  she 
said  earnestly.  "  I  can  remember  begging  mamma  for 
'Tathleen'  when  I  was  just  able  to  ask  for  it.  She  used  to 
rock  me  to  sleep  with  it  every  night.  Course  I  didn't 
understand  it  them  Aunt  Evy — ah  !  you  ought  to  hear  her! 
sings  it  to  me,  sometimes.  At  twilight,  you  know,  in  her 
room,  when  we  two  are  sitting  by  ourselves  by  the  fire.  It's 
like  seeing  it,  every  bit.  I  don't  sing  it  to  many  people. 
It's  one  of  my  privatest  songs." 

She  wandered  off  to  something  else — a  Scotch  air  if  I 
remember  aright,  and  I  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of  it. 

The  strangest  light  I  ever  saw  was  in  the  room  when  I 
was  aroused  from  the  depths  of  healing  slumber  by  a  sudden 
noise — I  could  not  at  at  once  determine  what.  The 
shutters  of  one  window  were  open,  and  outside  of  it  were 
the  sparsely  clothed  branches  of  an  old  cherry-tree,  drawn 
black  and  motionless  upon  a  background  done  in  sepia,  yet 
with  a  coppery  glare  striking  through  it  that  was  very  curi- 
ous. This  was  the  first  thing  my  eyes  rested  upon,  and  I 
could  not  make  out  what  it  meant,  nor  where  I  was,  until  a 
full  minute  had  passed ;  only  lay  gazing  at  the  fantastic 
cartoon  and  the  weird  illumination.  The  four  corners  of 
the  parlor  were  thick  with  gloom.  Every  object  in  the 
middle  of  it  was  unnaturally  distinct.  The  spider-legs  of  the 
centre-table  cast  crooked  shadows  upon  the  red  and  green 


loo  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

arabesques  of  the  carpet.  "HOLY  BIBLE"  on  the  cover  of 
the  ponderous  volume  that  had  the  place  of  honor  on  the 
table  was  in  letters  that  flamed  as  the  characters  traced  by 
the  finger  of  GOD  upon  the  first  tables  of  the  law  may  have 
burned  under  Moses'  eyes.  The  clear  brown  of  Ailsie's 
complexion  was  bronzed,  and  there  were  tawny  glints  on 
her  hair  that  did  not  belong  there. 

She  did  not  observe,  directly,  that  I  was  awake,  but 
remained  perfectly  still,  looking  at  the  cloud,  the  apparent 
source  of  the  baleful  radiance,  that  had  wrought  such 
transfiguration.  Now  and  then,  she  drew  a  deep  breath,  in 
awed  interest — not  alarm. 

She  started  as  I  touched  her  folded  hands. 

"You  have  waked  up  !  Good  !  I  could'nt  bear  to  look  at 
you.  You  were  not  at  all  like  yourself,  but  pale  and  yellow, 
more  like  a  brass  head  papa  has  in  the  library  at  home 
than  my  dear  Mr.  Barry." 

She  drew  her  stool  closer  to  me  ;  took  my  hand  and 
leaned  her  cheek  confidingly  upon  it. 

"  Were  you  afraid  ? "  I  inquired.  "  We  are  going  to 
have  a  thunder-storm.  But  you  are  quite  safe,  little 
bird." 

She  smiled  brightly.  "  I  never  thought  of  being  fright- 
ened. I  am  rather  fond  of  thunder-storms.  Mamma  and  I 
watch  them  rising  over  the  mountains  from  her  windows. 
It's  grand  !  She  says  they  are  no  more  dangerous  than  the 
sunshine.  People  get  struck  by  the  sun  'most  any  time  in 
town,  in  the  hot  weather.  It  lightened  once,  a  while  ago, 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  IOI 

and  there  was  one  thunder.  It  was  that  woke  you  up,  I 
jtf/-pose.  Is  your  head  better  ? 

"  Much,  thank  you  !  You  and  sleep  have  cured  me.  I 
am  only  weak  and  giddy.  The  pain  has  nearly  gone." 

"  Shan't  I  ask  Mrs.  Gaskin  for  something  for  you  to  eat  ?  " 

"  No,  dear.  There  is  time  enough  for  that.  I  shall  be 
most  comfortable  lying  here  and  watching  the  storm  with  you. 
I  could  not  eat,  even  if  grandma  were  to  tempt  me  with  one 
of  her  suppers." 

She  nestled  in  the  embrace  of  the  arm  cast  about  her. 
We  were  such  dear  friends  now,  that  I  might  take  the  liberty, 
and  likewise  beg,  when  she  was  in  a  very  benign  mood,  the 
supreme  favor  of  a  kiss  at  parting  for  the  night. 

"  It  is  very  good  to  be  with  you  !  Of  course  we  are  safe 
anywhere,  for  GOD  is  everywhere.  But  when  we  can  see  the 
people  we  love  it  is  a  great  convenience.  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  It  is  always  a  "  convenience"  and  a  happiness  to  have 
you  near  me,"  I  rejoined.  "  There  is  the  lightning  again  ! 
Look  at  that  old  tree,  Ailsie,  the  next  time  the  flash  comes. 
It  really  seemed  to  shake  all  over,  as  if  frightened  out  of  its 
wits." 

"  Out  of  its  bark,  you  mean,"  she  corrected.  "  What  little 
it  has  left !  " 

The  scanty  drapery  of  leaves  clinging  to  the  boughs  was 
of  a  sickly  green,  diversified  by  a  sicklier  brown.  Caterpil- 
lars' nests — gray  film  without,  squirming  black  within — were 
pendent  from  the  moss-grown  branches.  The  bark  was,  as 


102  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Ailsie  had  noticed,  dropping  piece-meal  from  the  trunk  that 
showed,  white  and  lifeless,  through  the  rifts  and  scars.  It 
was  a  hoary  monarch  of  its  kind,  and,  in  its  prime,  must  have 
shaded  all  that  end  of  the  house.  On  gusty  nights  I  had 
heard  branches  as  large  as  my  arm  hurtle  down  the  roof  and 
plunge,  with  a  dull  thud,  upon  the  turf. 

"  I  kinder  hate  to  cut  the  old  cherry  down,  yet  awhile," 
Ezra  had  said  one  day,  when  his  wife  had  complained  of  the 
"litter"  made  by  leaves  and  twigs. 

"  Yer  grandfather  sot  it  out,"  quavered  the  old  mother, 
"  Fifty  odd  years  ago.  There's  been  nigh  'pon  a  million 
bushels  o'  whiteheart  cherries  onto  it,  fust  and  last.  Mother- 
in-law  was  a  gret  one  for  presarvin'  and  dryin'  cherries. 
Many*s  the  colic  you  got  by  stuffin'  yerself  with  them  white- 
hearts,  Ezry,  when  you  was  a  little  chap.  Deary  me  !  how 
time  goes  !  The  righteous  runneth  into  it,  and  is  safe.  Yes, 
yes  !" 

"  I  kinder  hate  ter  stick  the  axe  into  it,  yit,"  pursued 
Ezra,  ignoring,  in  the  lordship  of  manhood,  the  reminiscences 
of  her  who  bore  him.  "  It'll  be  easier  cut,  come  winter, 
when  the  sap's  nm  down,  and  I  shan't  be  so  plaguey  hard 
pushed  with  other  work.  Winter's  the  time  for  cuttin'  tim- 
ber. If  s  powerful  hefty  business  in  hot  weather." 

And  I  had  been  so  foolish  as  to  credit  the  thrifty  fellow 
for  a  moment  with  some  touch  of  tender  regard  for  the  ven- 
erable warder  that  had  guarded  the  Dutch-hipped  roof  of  his 
forefathers  when  he  was  a  baby  ! 

The  thunder  succeeded  the  lightning  quite  at  its  leisure, 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  103 

A  sullen  growl,  waxing  into  as  sullen  a  roar — very  irregular 
on  the  descending  scale,  as  if  it  had  half  a  mind  to  turn  back 
and  repeat  the  performance — subsided  finally  into  a  grum- 
ble somewhere  far  off  to  the  eastward. 

"  Sounds  like  a  barrel  rolling  downstairs  with  a  '  boo-ump  ! ' 
for  the  landings  and  bottom,"  said  Ailsie  aptly. 

The  air  was  more  stifling  instead  of  cooler,  after  the  flash 
and  report.  The  storm  was  working  itself  up  to  the  point  of 
angry  outburst  with  ominous  slowness.  The  yellow-green 
leaves  wilted  until  they  lay  flat  upon  the  stems.  The 
gnarled  bole  and  decrepit  boughs  were  drawn  more  sharply 
upon  the  sepia  background,  up  which  darker  billows  began 
to  surge  majestically.  I  fancied  I  could  detect  sulphurous 
odors  in  the  atmosphere,  and  when  I  passed  my  hand  over 
Ailsie' s  hair  it  clung  to  my  fingers,  then  flew  off  as  at  the 
alternate  touch  of  the  poles  of  an  electrical  machine.  The 
tempest  would  be  something  to  be  remembered  when  it  did 
come. 

To  divert  my  companion's  mind  from  observation  of  these 
phenomena,  I  pointed  to  a  huge  "hunk"  of  gingerbread  in  a 
plate  set  on  a  chair  near  by. 

"  Did  you  bring  your  luncheon  with  you  ?  Or,  is  that  for 
me?" 

I  had  expected  the  curl  of  the  upper  lip  that  scouted  both 
suppositions,  but  it  was  smoothed  out  by  the  smile  that  fol- 
lowed. 

"  As  if  I'd  lug  gingerbread  around  in  my  pocket !  A  kind 
old  lady  with  the  rumpledest  face  I  ever  saw,  gave  it  to  me 


104  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

while  you  were  sound  asleep.  I  am  sure  she  is  kind,  though 
she  was  so  funny.  I  never  imagined  anybody  exactly  like  her. 
She  made  me  think  of  Cinderella's  godmother,  and  'Goody 
Gracious '  in  the  story  we  read  last  week,  and  witches  and 
pixies,  and  all  that.  She  didn't  speak  'loud — only  whis- 
pered, sitting  on  that  chair  and  stooping  over  towards  me. 
Something  in  her  throat  rattled  like  dried  peas  in  a  sifter. 
She  told  me  that  she  knew  Grandma  Darling  when  she 
wasn't  any  bigger  than  I,  and  that  she  '  was  the  purtiest  girl 
in  the  land.'  And  then  she  said  that  '  cleanliness  was  akin 
to  godliness,'  and  would  I  never  forget  that  text?  I  said, 
'  No,  ma'am — '  and  I  don't  believe  she  meant  to  be  rude. 
But  'twasn't  very  polite  to  grandma,  or  to  me." 

I  was  choking  with  laughter. 

"  She  meant  nothing  wrong,  dear.  It  is  only  a  way  she  has. 
Then,  she  gave  you  the  gingerbread  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  said  nursing  was  dreadful  hungry  work,  and  I'd 
'  better  run  out  to  play  a  spell,  and  look  at  the  cropple- 
crowned  chickens  and  Buckshur  pigs.'  She  would  enjoy — 
she  /miounced  it  '  enj'y — '  '  taking  a  mouthful  of  rest  in  the 
ioQ\air\g-cheer ' — that's  the  way  she  called  it.  I  think  it  was 
then  she  told  me  the  liberal  soul  should  be  made  fat.  She 
said  it,  sometime.  She  must  have  read  a  great  deal  of  Bible, 
to  remember  so  many  verses  that  don't  fit." 

My  laugh  was  irrepressible  now.  Ailsie's  eyes  twinkled 
with  fun,  then  were  gravely  repentant. 

"It  can't  be  right  to  laugh  at  her,  because  she's  so  old 
and  trembling.  And  she  was  very  good  to  me.  She  opened 


LITTLE  LOVE.  105 

the  shutters  '  for  fear  I  should  get  lonesome,'  sitting  in  the 
dark ;  that  was  how  I  found  out  there  was  going  to  be  a 
shower.  I  shouldn't  have  minded  eating  the  gingerbread  to 
please  her,  but  mamma  doesn't  like  to  have  me  eat  sweet 
things  between  meals.  I  didn't  like  to  hurt  the  old  lady's 
feelings,  so  1  told  her  she  might  leave  it  there,  and  if  I  got 
hungry  enough  maybe  I'd  eat  it.  Or,  perhaps,  you'd  take  a 
piece." 

The  lightning  flashed  nearer  and  faster.  The  sooty  billows 
suffused  the  broad  surface  of  the  cloud-curtain,  and,  from 
time  to  time,  a  cut  like  the  sweep  of  a  fiery  cimetar  split  it 
from  top  to  bottom.  The  sulphurous  fumes  were  stronger, 
and  the  darkness  closed  in  upon  us,  until  Ailsie's  face  with 
its  great,  solemn  eyes,  was  lifted  out  of  the  gloom  like  a 
brave,  bright  flower,  ever  turned  to  heaven. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  need  for  me  to  reiterate,  "  You 
are  quite  safe,  darling,"  but  I  said  it,  not  yet  comprehending 
how  one  so  young  should  not  be  terrified  by  the  portents  of 
a  tremendous  battle  in  the  air. 

"  I  know  !  "  she  answered  calmly ;  "  I  was  thinking  how 
nice  it  was  that  my  text  this  morning  should  have  been, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  be  afraid  of  the  terror  that  walketh  by  night, 
nor  the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day."  It  was  just  as  if  GOD 
intended  it.  The  lightning  put  me  in  mind  of  arrows.  It 
is  very  comfortable  to  remember  the  verse  just  now.  GOD 
doesn't  ever  say  things  he  doesn't  mean,  you  know." 

The  latch-knob  rattled,  and  the  grand-dame  bustled  in,  her 
cap  strings  flying  in  the  draught  created  by  opening  the  door. 
S* 


1 06  MY  LITTT. E  LO VE. 

"  For  the  land  sakes  ! "  she  ejaculated,  skurrying  across 
the  room  to  the  shutters  she  had  unbarred.  "  What  'ud 
Liza  Jane  say  ef  she  was  to  find  this  open,  and  ther*  comin* 
'on  sech  a  blow  as  never  was  !  The  turribillest  storm ! 
Well !  well !  the  night  cometh  in  which  no  man  can  work  !  " 

She  was  tugging  at  the  support  holding  up  the  sash — a 
rusty  nail  which  stuck  fast  in  its  hole. 

I  had  arisen  to  help  her,  checking  Ailsie,  who  sprang  for- 
ward to  do  the  same,  and  putting  her  behind  me  on  the  sofa 
as  I  left  it — (I  have  always  been  thankful  for  the  blind  im- 
pulse that  made  me  do  this) — when  the  air  seemed  to  take 
fire  all  around  me,  at  once,  and  I  was  hurled  violently  back- 
ward to  the  floor. 

If  I  was  stunned,  it  was  but  for  a  second,  for  Ailsie's 
scream  was  yet  ringing  in  my  ears  when  I  opened  my  eyes 
upon  hers.  My  head  was  in  her  arms ;  overthrown  chairs 
and  footstools  were  heaped  to  the  right  and  left  of  us,  as  by 
the  toss  of  a  mighty  arm.  The  centre-table  had  been  flung 
one  way,  the  great  Bible  another. 

Close  to  this  last,  her  head  almost  resting  upon  its  open 
page,  was  the  body  of  the  grand-dame. 

The  cherry-tree  was  cloven  from  crown  to  root,  but  it  was 
no  more  dead  than  was  she. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TROTH-PLIGHT. 

VACATION   and    convalescent    laziness  were 
over.     I  was  back  in  my  place  in  college  and 
home,  studying  in  earnest,  and,  Aunt  Evy  in- 
sisted, always  a  little  too  much  for  my  strength^ 
inasmuch  as  in  addition  to  the  cramming  requisite 
to  make  up  for  lost  time,  I  had  commenced  read- 
ing medicine  out  of  lecture  hours. 

"  If  I  had  my  way,"  said  my  privileged  censor, 
I  would  seal  up  your  medical  treatises  for  twelve 
months,    and    stamp   upon   each    seal,    "  Festina 
Icnte? 

My  censor — for  one  of  the  great  blessings  of  my  life  had 
come  to  me.  Ailsie's  Aunt  Evy  was  mine  also,  by  adoption, 
and  of  love.  The  Darlings'  house  was  nominally  my  secojid 
home  ;  in  reality,  it  was  the  first  in  whatever  went  to  make  up 
the  best  and  dearest  elements  of  a  heart  heaven.  And  the 
"  Innermost" — (a  thousand  thanks  to  Frederika  Bremer  for 
the  word  !)  of  the  Darling  household,  was  "  Aunt  Ev/s 
room." 

We  three — she,  Ailsie  and  I — were  enjoying  the  glow  of 
her  wood-fire,  the  cheerier  as  the  twilight  advanced,  one  raw 


1 08  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

winter's  evening.  It  was  the  isth  of  December,  a  date  I 
have  reason  to  recollect.  Aunt  Evy's  knitting-work  lay  on 
her  lap,  and  there  was  still  sufficient  daylight  to  show  that 
it  was  a  pretty  fabric  of  red  and  white  worsted.  The  tiny 
hands  were  notably  clever  in  such  cunning  and  tasteful 
manufactures.  To  this  day,  the  sight  of  anything  particu- 
larly ingenious  or  dainty  in  the  way  of  knitting,  netting  or 
crocheting,  reminds  me  of  her. 

I  saw  a  young  girl  showing  off  what  she  styled  "  a  sea- 
foam,"  the  other  night,  with  great  pride  and  a  spice  of  co- 
quetry. Pride  that  she  had  fashioned  it ;  coquettish  delight  in 
its  becomingness,  when  it  was  thrown  over  her  fair  hair.  It 
was  pale  green  and  pure  white,  fine  as  a  spider's  web,  yet 
warm  as  ermine — at  least,  so  she  said.  There  was  a  painful 
stricture  about  heart  and  throat  that  kept  back  my  smile  at 
her  innocent  manoeuvres.  Not  because  she  was  young  and 
fair,  and  cared  not  that  I  found  her  so,  but  for  love  of  other 
hands  that  had  wrought  like  fairy  wonders,  so  many  years 
agone  ! 

Aunt  Evy  was  very  small  and  slight — "  Queen  Mab,"  her 
brother-in-law  had  dubbed  her — and  very  fragile.  She  could 
just  remember,  she  used  to  say,  the  time  when  she  was  well 
and  strong  ;  when  people  praised  her  rosy  cheeks  and  laughed 
at  her  dumpling  dot  of  a  figure ;  when  there  were  dimples 
where  the  knuckles  now  showed  sharply  on  her  hands,  and 
her  hair,  still  soft  and  lustrous,  fell,  when  loosened,  below  her 
knees.  By-and-by  she  had  lost  flesh  and  health,  and  had 
learned  to  cease  looking  for  their  return  ages  ago.  Where 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  109 

was  the  use  of  tormenting  her  friends  and  herself  with  uncer- 
tainties ?  It  was  only  casting  money  after  doctors,  and  time 
after  money,  and  what  poor  treasures  of  rest  and  pleasure  re- 
mained in  the  battered  shallop  after  what  had  gone  before, 
to  keep  up  the  pitiful  farce  of  expecting  to  be  well  again  in 
this  world. 

She  divided  her  time  between  the  homes  of  her  two  sisters, 
one  of  whom  lived  in  a  pleasant  village  on  the  Hudson 
River.  But  Mrs.  Darling  had  her  for  three- fourths  of  the 
year,  much  to  the  other's  discontent.  In  the  winter  she  was 
invariably  in  the  city,  the  recipient  of  such  lavishment  of 
loving  care  as  would  have  satisfied  a  more  exacting  invalid. 
Two  luxuries  she  would  have  wherever  she  pitched  her  tent : 
her  open  fire-place,  with  its  blazing  logs,  and  her  window- 
stand  of  flowers.  Her  "  pet  old-maidisms,"  she  said  they 
were,  and  insisted  upon  paying  for  them  herself.  She  could 
have  afforded  to  indulge  many  and  more  extravagant  whims, 
being  the  mistress  of  a  snug  fortune  in  her  own  right.  Her 
dress  was  always  handsome  and  in  the  prevailing  mode  ;  hei 
apartments  well  furnished  and  exquisitely  neat. 

"  It  is  bad  enough  to  drag  my  visitors  up  an  additional 
flight  of  stairs  to  behold  a  fleshless  atomy,"  was  one  of  her 
sayings — "  without  chilling  them  by  the  appointments  of  a 
hospital  and  the  gloom  of  a  genteel  family  vault." 

She  kept  open  doors  here,  therefore,  her  face  as  sunny  as 
the  sky  in  fair  weather,  as  cheery  always  as  the  blaze  upon 
the  hearth,  and  to  her  was  continual  resort  of  those  who 
needed  counsel  and  sympathy.  Mrs.  Darling  came  to  con- 


HO  MY  LITTLE  L 0 VE. 

suit  about  dress-making  and  cookery  and  social  requirements 
and  mooted  points  of  etiquette.  Her  husband  read  the 
"Post,"  every  evening  by  "Evy's"  lamp,  toasting  his 
slippered  feet  upon  the  fender,  and  discussed  the  leading 
topics  of  the  paper  and  times,  with  the  vivacious  little  being 
who  seldom  saw  the  outside  of  the  house  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  of  winter,  and  sometimes  did  not  stir  beyond 
the  threshold  of  her  chamber  for  weeks  together.  The 
children  trooped  in  and  out,  all  day  long,  with  broken  knees 
and  fractured  toys  to  be  pitied  and  repaired,  bruised  heads 
and  injured  feelings,  capital  jokes  and  direful  woes  that 
could  be  appreciated  so  well  by  no  one  else  as  Aunt  Evy. 
She  loved  and  spoiled  all,  serving  each  as  faithfully  and 
zealously  as  if  she  had  no  one  else  upon  the  globe  upon  whom 
to  pour  out  the  riches  of  her  affectionate  sympathy  and  help- 
ful offices.  That  she  had  a  favorite,  however,  she  was  too 
honest  to  conceal.  That  nobody  carped  at  the  preference 
was  a  proof  how  truly  the  rest  loved  her  and  the  object  of 
her  partiality. 

"  They  are  all  passing  dear,"  she  said,  once,  to  me,  "  I 
hardly  know  which  is  the  mother — Mrs.  Darling  or  I.  But 
Ailsie  ?  Ah,  that  is  quite  a  different  matter.  She  is  my  twin  !  " 

I  could  easily  comprehend,  when  I  knew  her  well,  the 
nature  and  strength  of  the  tie  ;  as  easily  trace  in  the  niece's 
peculiar  phraseology  her  habits  of  thought, — especially  in  the 
mixture  of  sparkling  fun  and  profoundest  earnestness  that 
was  a  never-old  entertainment  to  me — the  formative  agency 
of  the  aunt's  companionshp  and  teachings. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  Ill 

"  If  people  would  not  excruciate  my  taste  and  sensibilities 
by  calling  the  most  original  child  born  into  the  world  during 
this  century — '  old-fashioned,'  it  would  be  a  relief  and  a 
boon,"  she  complained.  "  When  her  fashion  is  all  her  own, 
and  uncopyable  ! " 

She  was  inclined  to  be  quiet,  on  this  evening  in  mid-De- 
cember, lying  in  the  invalid's  chair  which  she  had  asked  me 
to  lower  for  her,  when  she  stopped  knitting, — only  saying  a 
word,  here  and  there,  to  show  that  she  heard  and  enjoyed 
what  was  going  on  between  Ailsie  and  myself,  or  laughing 
— the  soft,  liquid  gurgle  of  amusement  that  was  more  like 
infantine  glee  than  the  mirth  of  one  who  had  lived  in  this 
world  forty  years,  and  could  "just  remember"  what  it  was 
to  be  free  from  pain. 

Ailsie  and  I  were  having  what  she  denominated  "  one  of 
our  good  talks."  It  was  not  every  day,  or  every  week,  that 
she  condescended  to  accept  a  seat  upon  my  knee.  She  never 
did  it  when  others  besides  Aunt  Evy  were  by,  being,  at  once, 
the  least  shy  and  the  most  modest  child  I  ever  saw.  To-night, 
she  had  invited  herself  to  occupy  that  perch,  and  while  she 
talked,  played  with  my  hands,  my  sleeve-buttons  and  those  of 
my  coat — counting,  "  rich  man,  poor  man,  merchant,  thief,"up 
one  side,  and  down  the  other,  varying  the  entertainment  by  an 
occasional  pull  at  my  hair  if  I  teased  or  contradicted  her. 

"  All  the  leaves  must  be  off  the  bower,"  she  was  saying. 
"  And  the  creek  frozen.  And  the  trout — (poor  prince  isn't 
there  now  !)  what  do  you  suppose  has  become  of  them  ?  And 
the  hop-toads  and  spiders  ?  " 


H2  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

"  Gone  into  winter  quarters,"  quoth  I.  "  With  mud- 
blankets  and  sod  comfortables.  If  your  dear  friends  the 
spiders  hadn't  wasted  their  time  making  ball-dresses  for  the 
fairies,  in  the  summer,  they  might  now  be  asleep  in  beds  with 
lace  curtains  and  cambric  sheets." 

The  idea  pleased  her  fancy,  and  she  paused  to  cogitate 
upon  it. 

"  It  does  seem,"  she  said,  slowly,  as  "  if  they  might  have 
done  something  like  that.  Built  cunning  little  houses  under 
ground.  Wee  bits  of  palaces — and  lined  them  with  silk,  and 
had  thistle-down  beds." 

"  And  stoves  and  gas-chandeliers  !  "  I  interpolated,  and 
got  my  ears  pinched. 

"  I  can  see  just  the  kind  of  house  I  am  going  to  live  in 
when  I  am  grown  up,"  she  pursued,  staring  into  the  fire.  "  It 
shall  be  almost  out  of  town,  where  I  can  have  a  garden  and 
rabbits  and  Guinea-fowls  and  a  dozen  jolly  little  pigs  with 
curly  tails  and  pink  noses.  Oh  !  and  a  pony,  and  deers  and 
fishes,  and  as  many  birds  as  the  trees  will  hold.  There  will  be 
a  piazza  all  around  the  house,  and  windows  down  to  the  floor, 
and  ever  so  many  rooms  down-stairs.  So's  Aunt  Evy  won't 
have  to  climb  steps.  One  room  shall  be  all  white  ;  another 
all  pink,  another  blue.  I'll  have  a  piano  in  every  one.  And 
a  greenhouse." 

"  In  every  room  ?  " 

"  Be  quiet ! "  she  ordered,  petulantly.  "  My  houses  tum- 
ble down  when  any  body  speaks.  It  breaks  the  charm.  That 
one  has  gone  for  ever  and  a  day." 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  113 

"  I'll  build  you  a  better,  some  time,"  I  proposed.  "  When 
I  am  a  rich  doctor,  with  the  street  in  front  of  my  office  block- 
ed up  with  the  carriages  of  people  who  want  me  to  cure 
them.  You  shall  have  rooms  furnished  with  all  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow,  and  no  end  of  flowers  and  gold-fish,  and  as  many 
singing-birds  as  heart  could  wish,  not  forgetting  a  damp  cor- 
ner in  the  garden  for  a  select  number  of  lovely  hop-toads, 
and  a  garret,  where  the  spiders'  webs  shall  never  be  disturbed. 
As  to  pianos,  and  such-like  trifles,  they  will  be  a  drug.  You 
won't  be  able  to  move  without  catching  your  dress  in  a  harp- 
string  or  treading  upon  a  guitar." 

"  Who  will  play  upon  them  all  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Evy  and  you  and  I." 

"  Ah  !  you  will  live  with  us  too, — will  you  ?  That  would 
be  splendid  ! " 

"  If  you  will  let  me,"  I  responded,  seriously.  "  But  you 
will  have  to  marry  me  first." 

I  expected  a  cuff  or  a  tweak  of  the  ear.  But  she  stopped 
trifling  with  my  coat  buttons,  and  became  profoundly  medita- 
tive, her  head  on  one  side,  her  eyes  again  upon  the  coals. 

Aunt  Evy's  laugh  disturbed  the  brown  study. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Midget  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  it  might  do  very  well ! "  she  an- 
swered, with  unflattering  hesitation.  "  I  shall  have  to  marry 
somebody.  And  so  many  people  advise  me  not  to  marry 
papa.  They  say  it  'tisn't  custom-er-rary.  Mamma  might 
feel  badly  about  it,  too.  It  would  be  something  like  Leah 
and  Rachel.  I  am  very  fond  of  you,  and  you  would  treat 


1 1 4  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

me  well.  I  did  think  once  I  would  marry  a  minister.  They 
are  poor  as  poverty,  always,  but  they  don't  drink  !  I've  been 
afraid,  all  my  life,  I  should  marry  a  &r\\\\kerd.  Papa  read 
at  prayers,  this  morning,  about  the  men  persessed  with  devils 
that  tore  their  clothes  and  were  "  exceeding  fierce."  I  think 
that's  the  matter  with  drunkerds.  It's  just  the  way  they  be- 
have. They  are  persessed  with  devils." 

"Bad  spirits,  certainly,"  said  I,  jocularly. 

She  was  immovably  grave.  "  It  would  be  better  for  me  to 
die,  now,  while  I'm  sure  to  go  to  heaven,  than  to  grow  up 
and  marry  a  man  who  was  persessed." 

"  Always  the  same  bugbear  ! "  murmured  Aunt  Evy  to 
me.  "  I  ask  myself,  often,  what  it  can  portend." 

"  You  had  better  take  me,  Ailsie,"  I  urged.  "I'll  sign  the 
pledge  to-morrow.  Let  me  see  !  How  does  it  run  ? 

'  We  do  not  think 
We'll  ever  drink 
Brandy  or  rum, 
Or  anything  that  makes  drunk  come,' 

"  I  promise  it  all  if  you'll  say  that  you  will  marry  me." 
She  ruminated  yet  more  solemnly,  weighing  the  proposal 
as  its  moment  deserved. 

"  I  should  like  to  get  it  off  my  mind  for  good  and  all,"  she 
confessed.  "  It  has  been  a  great  bother.  Four  other  gen- 
tlemen have  begged  me  to  marry  them.  Very  nice  gentle- 
men, too.  Good  enough  for  anybody's  lovers.  But  I  had 
papa  in  my  head,  and  hadn't  been  told  any  better,  and  I 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 1 5 

sent  them  off.  After  all,  I  didn't  like  any  of  them  as  well  as 
I  do  you.  You  suit  me  uncommonly  well.  Aunt  Evy  likes 
you,  and  papa  and  mamma  think  the  world  of  you." 

"You  see  what  a  comfortable  arrangement  it  would  be  all 
around,  then,"  pursuing  my  advantage.  "  You  suit  me  un- 
commonly well.  I  like  Aunt  Evy,  and  think  the  world  of 
papa  and  mamma.  Say  you'll  take  me,  Ailsie,  and  get  the 
bother  off  both  our  minds." 

She  was  not  quite  won.  The  sense  of  what  belonged  to 
her  sex  was  inborn  and  potent. 

"  I  wonder  what  Clarine  would  say,"  was  her  next  objec- 
tion. "  She  might  be  hurt  if  I  was  engaged  first." 

"Don't  let  that  stand  in  your  way,"  observed  Aunt  Evy. 
"  I  had  a  letter  yesterday  from  Clarine."  This  was  the  eld- 
est daughter,  who  was  spending  the  winter  with  some  Wes- 
tern friends.  "  I  should  not  be  surprised,  from  what  she 
says,  if  she  brought  somebody  home  in  the  Spring,  to  ask 
papa's  consent  to  her  return  with  him.  But  that  is  a  secret, 
for  the  present." 

"  Certainly,"  nodding  sagaciously.  "  Family  affairs.  I 
hope  she  will  get  a  handsome  husband  and  be  very  happy." 

"  And  you  will  make  me  very  happy  by  giving  me  a  hand- 
some little  wife  ?  "  I  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  O  dear  ! "  The  coquette  in  miniature  tossed  her  head 
pettishly.  "  How  insisting  you  are  !  I  have  a  great  mind 
to  say  ' No ! '" 

"  Ailsie,  the  very  thought  of  it  breaks  my  heart ! " 

She  got  down  from  my  knee. 


1 16  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  Stand  up  ! "  imperiously. 

I  obeyed,  taking  a  military  attitude,  head  and  shoulders 
back,  hands  straight  down  at  rny  sides.  She  retired  some 
paces,  put  her  hands  behind  her,  and  scrutinized  me. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  you  !  "  she  remarked  dubiously, 
presently. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  your  part  of  the  bargain  !  "  I  re- 
torted. "  It  isn't  every  day  you  can  get  six  feet  in  exchange 
for  four." 

"You'll  be  getting  handsomer  all  the  while,"  was  her 
next  move.  She  was  a  mad  lover  of  personal  comeliness. 
"I  heard  mamma  tell  Aunt  Evy  so  yesterday.  She  said 
you  would  envelope  into  a  noble  man." 

"  Ailsie,  you  tell-tale  ! "  cried  her  aunt  threateningly. 

I  bowed  profoundly.  "  I  shall  make  it  a  point,  with  the 
busy  bee,  to  improve  my  manly  beauty  every  shining  hour." 

"No  joking!"  she  frowned.  "There  is  no  fun  in  this 
matter.  Are  you  jpuf-feck-\y  sure  that  you  want  to  marry 
me  ?  " 

I  put  my  hand  to  my  heart. 

"  As  sure  as  that  I  carry  your  image  in  this  bosom,  Prin- 
cess Ailsie." 

"  You  will  always  love  me  as  well  as  you  do  now  ?  " 

"Better,  if  that  were  possible." 

"  Never  be  cross  or  uncomfortable  ?  " 

"  Not  while  the  stars  shine  and  the  rivers  roar." 

"  Will  let  me  have  my  own  way  when  it's  good  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes — and  when  it  is  not,  if  you  will." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  117 

"  Aunt  Evy  may  live  with  us  ?  " 

"  From  the  first  of  January  to  the  thirty-first  of  Decem- 
ber." 

"Then — "  after  a  pause  meant  to  be  tantalizing — "we'll 
call  it  settled." 

"  Seal  it  with  a  kiss,  Ailsie." 

She  averted  her  face  with  coy  dignity  as  I  stooped  toward 
her,  and  extended  her  hand  to  receive  the  salute.  I 
dropped  to  one  knee  to  perform  the  act  of  allegiance,  Queen 
Mab  looking  on  in  intense  amusement. 

"  I  knocked  at  the  door  and  thought  I  heard  Miss  Marias 
voice  say  '  Come  in  ! '  said  pleasant  accents  in  the  rear  of 
the  group.  "  Was  I  mistaken  ?  " 

I  was  on  my  feet  with  a  spring.  Ailsie  snatched  away 
her  hand.  Even  Aunt  Evy,  who  was  rarely  off  her  guard, 
uttered  a  slight  exclamation. 

"  Why,  Bessie  Barnes  !  you  stole  in  upon  us  like  a  ghost ! 
We  did  not  hear  you,  but  you  are  none  the  less  welcome  on 
that  account.  Miss  Barnes,  allow  me  to  present  my  friend, 
Mr.  Haye.  Barry  !  may  I  trouble  you  to  light  the  gas  ?  " 

I  gathered  from  this  that  Miss  Barnes  was  hardly  upon 
what  Mrs.  Stowe  calls,  "a  footing  of  undress  intimacy" 
with  our  small  hostess.  I  had  met  girls  there  at  twilight 
whose  calls  were  allowed  to  run  out  to  the  close  without 
other  illumination  than  the  rising  and  falling  fire-light.  Like 
other  single  ladies  and  invalids,  Aunt  Evy  had  "  whims," 
and  one  of  these  was  the  delicate  gradation  of  greetings  that 
were  always  civil  and  friendly,  from  frank  affection  down  to 


Ii8  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

politeness  for  the  sake  of  politeness  and  her  own  self-respect. 
I  judged  that  Miss  Barnes  stood  about  midway  on  the 
scale. 

She  was  very  pretty.  That  I  discovered  at  a  glance.  Her 
eyes  were  hazel  and  marvellously  expressive  ;  her  hair  chest- 
nut ;  her  nose  straight ;  teeth  white  and  even  with  an  en- 
gaging trick  of  surprising  the  beholder  by  gleaming  in  sudden 
smiles  between  two  red  lips,  and  her  complexion  was  like 
the  petals  of  a  freshly  moulded  wax  lily. 

"  Pure  Parian,"  said  I  to  myself,  noting  how  faint,  exquisite 
lights  shone  through  its  paleness,  as  she  talked  or  laughed. 
"A  perfect  piece  of  workmanship  ! " 

Like  Ailsie  I  had  an  eye  for  personal  beauty,  and  used 
both  of  mine  to  excellent  purpose  in  the  ensuing  half- hour. 
Perhaps  this  is  why  I  have  such  a  nebulous  recollection  of 
what  she  talked  about.  Her  voice  was  very  sweet,  with 
round  tones,  and  rather  languid  modulations  that  were  more 
Southern  than  Northern.  She  was  apparently  an  enthusias- 
tic admirer  of  Aunt  Evy,  although  her  effusiveness  did  not 
transcend  the  limits  of  good  taste. 

Ailsie  had  betaken  herself  to  a  stool  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fireplace  from  the  visitor,  and  said  not  one  word  while  she 
stayed.  This  did  not  impress  me  as  significant  at  the  time, 
because  she  was  subject  to  these  fits  of  quiet  attention,  dur- 
ing which  the  passage  of  her  intelligent  eyes  from  one 
speaker  to  another  declared  her  every  sense  to  be  on  the 
alert.  Her  withdrawal  from  Miss  Barnes's  vicinity  and  im- 
penetrable reserve,  meant  only  that  she  would  rather  look  and 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  119 

listen  than  talk,  or  be  talked  to.  She  wore  a  crimson  dress, 
that  evening,  or  a  deep  wine-color,  with  a  full  skirt  that  fell 
into  graceful  folds  about  her  knees,  and  to  her  ankles,  show- 
ing her  pretty  feet.  Her  Uncle  Wynant  described  her,  in 
sporting  phrase,  as  "  clean-limbed,"  and  I  thought  of  it 
whenever  I  saw  her  walk  or  dance.  The  plumpness  belong- 
ing to  robust  childhood  did  not  disguise  the  trim  shapeliness 
that  promised  to  become  lithe  elegance  in  the  woman.  Her 
hands  were  crossed  in  her  lap,  and  she  sat  perfectly  erect, 
never  vouchsafing  more  than  a  glance  in  my  direction,  and 
that  demurely  expressionless.  I  tried  to  catch  her  eye  once 
or  twice,  but  failed  signally,  and  to  me  comically.  The 
studied  propriety  of  my  newly  affianced  could  not  have  been 
surpassed  by  a  "  model  of  her  sex  "  ripe  with  the  seasoning 
of  ten  campaigns. 

Miss  Barnes  talked  away  gayly,  and  Aunt  Evy  seconded 
her,  until  the  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  six. 

"  Can  it  be  !  "  exclaimed  the  younger  lady,  taking  out  her 
watch.  "  That  naughty  brother  of  mine  was  to  call  for  me 
at  half-past  five.  He  has  forgotten  me,  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt — the  careless  boy  !  Ah,  Mr.  Haye  !  the  best  of 
brothers  are  ruined  for  all  sisterly  use,  lost  to  their  families 
and  general  society  by  the  frightful  accidents  called  "  matri- 
monial engagements."  Fred  used  to  be  a  nonesuch  of  an 
escort  for  me,  and  I  was  so  vain  as  to  believe  that  nobody 
could  usurp  my  place.  Now,  I  pledge  you  my  word,  he 
does  not  remember  my  existence  once  in  twenty-four 
hours,  unless  I  am  bodily  present  to  his  eyes,  and  then  he 


120  MY  LI TTLE  L  0  VE. 

passes  me  over  with  an  abstracted  stare  as  if  I  were  the 
moon." 

"  Excuse  me  !  "  I  said,  deferentially  ;  "  but  do  you  con- 
sider that  an  unnatural  mistake  ?  " 

A  flat  compliment  and  flatter  witticism,  but  she  accepted 
it  merrily. 

"  Thank  you  ! "  sweeping  me  a  courtesy,  that  would  have 
been  a  burlesque  of  gratitude  but  for  its  winsome  grace. 
The  white  teeth  were  visible  in  a  brilliant  line  hardly  seen 
before  it  was  gone.  "  It  is  easy  to  see  whose  pupil  he  is, 
Miss  Marr,"  smiling  at  Aunt  Evy.  "  You  cannot  do  better 
than  to  prosecute  your  studies  in  this  seminary  of  the  graces, 
Mr.  Haye.  Some  of  her  graduates  have  the  most  enchant- 
ing manners,  and  they  do  get  off  the  prettiest  things  imagina- 
ble. We  all  know  they  are  at  second-hand,  and  tell  them  so, 
but  even  at  that,  their  bans  mots  are  preferable  to  anything 
that  originates  in  the  masculine  cranium." 

"  The  brain  is  then  the  fountain-head  of  gallantry  ? "  I 
said,  interrogatively.  "We  stupid  men  are  in  the  habit  of 
claiming  for  the  homage  we  pay  at  the  shrine  of  the  fair,  the 
merit  of  heart-parentage." 

"  That  is  an  exploded  error.  Every  girl  in  her  teens 
knows  better  than  to  trust  your  fine  words,  or  yourselves. 
But  I  must  positively  go  !  " 

I  arose  with  her,  and  stepped  back  into  a  side-room  for  my 
hat  and  overcoat. 

"  If  you  please  ! "  remonstrated  Miss  Barnes,  a  few  hur- 
ried steps  bringing  her  close  to  me,  at  my  re-appearance. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  121 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  feel  called  upon  to  play  deliverer  to  this 
forsaken  maiden  !  I  am  not  in  the  least  timid,  at  any  time, 
and  this  evening  I  have  an  eminently  courageous  fit  upon 
me.  Then,  there  are  always  the  very  civil  policemen  to  call 
upon,  if  one  should  get  nervous.  I  prefer  to  go  home  alone  ! 
You  may  look  incredulous,  but  I  do  !  I  won't  flatter  you  by 
pretences  of  shrinking  delicacy.  I  am  the  most  candid  crea- 
ture in  the  universe." 

She  was  laughing  all  over  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  upon 
mine,  and  I  being  so  much  the  taller  of  the  two,  she  had  to 
raise  them  at  a  bewitching  angle.  Her  teeth  were  a-gleam 
with  fun  ;  rosy  flames  flickered  through  the  Parian  complex- 
ion, and  amidst  these,  two  of  the  archest,  divinest  dimples 
that  ever  ensnared  heart  and  fancy  played  hide-and-seek. 

In  the  Spectator's  "  Bill  of  Mortality  of  Lovers,"  we  find 
these  entries : 

"  Ned  Courtley  presenting  Flavia  with  her  glove  (which 
she  had  dropped  on  purpose),  she  received  it,  and  took  away 
his  life  with  a  curtsey. 

"  Musidorus — slain  by  an  arrow  that  flew  out  of  a  dimple 
in  Belinda's  left  cheek." 

I  was  doubly  dispatched  ;  nay,  trebly ;  done  to  my  death. 

Yet  the  aromatic  pain  of  such  dying  were  worth  a  thousand 
lives,  provided  one  might  perish  with  the  dear,  fatal  rose  in 
sight. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

HASHEESH. 

FELL  in  love,  then,  with  Bessie  Barnes,  out 
of  hand,  and  irretrievably.  I  will  not  be 
positive  that  the  pretty  alliteration  did  not 
aid  in  the  work  so  speedily  and  effectually 
done. 

I  take  to  myself  due  credit  for  my  prompt  ap- 
preciation of  my  condition  and  honorable  surrender 
to  my  captor.  Some  men  make  feeble  fight,  while 
conscious  of  their  enslavement.  Others  deny  persis- 
tently to  themselves  the  fact  that  they  are  no  longer 
their  own  masters,  and  therefore  ignore  the  odds  against  their 
ever  regaining  their  liberty.  I  was  young,  and  despite  a  con- 
stitutional inclination  to  dreaminess  and  morbid  musings,  I 
could  hardly  have  been  reckoned  as  over- susceptible  to  Love's 
wiles  or  assaults.  I  had  never  felt  the  symptoms  I  was  so 
quick  to  recognize,  before,  even  in  the  incipient  stages  of 
school-boy  passion  or  puppy-adoration.  Yet  in  respect  to 
coquettes  and  their  arts  I  was  at  twenty-one  as  unsophisti- 
cated as  was  Caspar  Hauser,  when  found  standing  painfully 
upon  the  rounded  soles  of  his  pulpy  feet  in  the  market-place, 
blinking  at  the  unknown  daylight.  From  the  time  I  left  off 


My  LITTLE  LOVE.  123 

petticoats  I  had  preferred  books  to  society,  and  shunned 
ladies — young  ones,  especially — while  at  school  and  college, 
with  more  than  the  usual  dread  common  to  hobbledehoydom. 
It  should  have  been  to  me  a  convincing  proof  of  the  human- 
izing yet  bracing  influence  of  the  summer's  associations  and 
Aunt  Ev/s  tuition,  that  I  had  met  a  popular  belle  without 
the  disposition  to  run  away,  and  bandied  compliments  with 
her  for  three  minutes  before  the  twin  darts  from  courtesy  and 
dimple  penetrated  to  my  vitals,  and  I  fell  at  her  feet  as 
Holofernes  before  Judith,  or  Sisera  before  inhospitable  Jael. 

Figuratively.  Seen  by  the  outward  eye,  I  stood  upright, 
civilly,  yet  not  servilely  insisting  upon  my  right  to  see  my 
enslaver  to  the  home,  honored  beyond  all  other  earthly  habi- 
tations (but  this  I  said  inwardly)  in  being  her  abiding-place. 
More  glances,  courtesies  and  dimples  were  so  much  superflu- 
ous ammunition,  but  she  did  not  grudge  them.  I  said 
"  Good-night "  to  Miss  Marr,  replying  incoherently,  I  dare 
say,  to  her  query  whether  1  would  not  return  and  sup  with 
her.  I  believe  I  intimated,  and  lied,  in  so  doing,  that  "  they  " 
would  be  disappointed  if  I  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  at 
home,  about  tea-time.  My  hasty  response  meant  nothing 
beyond  aversion  to  viewing  the  blissful  Now  as  limitable  by 
vulgar  times  and  seasons. 

On  the  first  landing,  I  recollected  that  I  had  not  taken 
leave  of  Ailsie,  nor  so  much  as  looked  at  her  in  leaving  the 
room.  I  will  be  so  far  just  to  myself  as  to  assert  that  I  should 
probably  have  made  some  sort  of  apology  to  my  companion, 
and  run  back  to  repair  the  slight,  had  she  not  been  in  the 


124  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

middle  of  a  sentence  which  lasted  all  the  way  down-stairs  ; 
an  impulse  seized — no,  touched  me,  in  the  lower  hall,  to  call 
out  a  pleasant  "Good-by,  Ailsie  dear!"  I  should  like  to 
think  that  I  had  opened  my  mouth  to  do  this  when  Miss 
Bessie  accosted  me. 

"Have  you  a  pin  to  spare  ?  The  walking  is  detestable.  I 
must  pin  up  my  dress,  if  I  am  to  take  your  arm." 

Take  my  arm  !  Flexors  and  extensors  were  steel  at  the 
suggestion.  I  could  have  borne  her  fairy  weight — one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  avoirdupois — to  the  world's  end,  or  hewed 
through  a  posse  of  "  very  civil  policemen."  Then  the  sweet 
artlessness  of  the  declaration  that  she  was  under  my  protec- 
tion, the  ingenuous  acceptance  of  my  escort  and  all  it  im- 
plied of  guard,  support,  devotion — stamped  her  as  true  and 
noble  woman.  The  alternate  heats  and  thrills  radiating  from 
the  heart  to  the  remotest  fibers  of  digits  and  pedals,  almost 
robbed  me  of  my  speech  and  memory.  It  was  as  much  as  I 
could  do  to  recollect  in  which  vest-pocket  I  carried  the  small 
"bachelor's"  pincushion  fashioned  for  me  by  Ailsie,  last  week. 
Producing  it  after  fumblings  and  delays  that  earned  for  me 
another  glimpse  of  the  gleaming  pearls  between  the  rose- 
leaves  of  the  "  perfect  lips,"  I  offered  it  silently — reverently 

It  was  heart-shaped  and  made  of  black  velvet, — with 
"  B  "  on  one  side,  "  H  "  on  the  reverse,  worked  with  gold 
thread  by  Aunt  Evy.  But  the  uneven  stitches,  crowding  upon 
and  overlapping  one  another  around  the  edges,  were  set  by 
solicitous  little  fingers  whose  owner  had  wrought  in  with  every 
one  a  loving  thought  of  me  that  lent  force  to  the  thrust  of 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  125 

the  needle  through  quadruple  folds.  The  same  fingers  had 
stuck  the  heart  all  around  with  pins  for  my  use.  I  had  not 
been  able,  up  to  this  moment,  to  make  up  my  mind  to  re- 
move one  of  them.  I  held  it  out  to  Miss  Barnes  as  readily 
as  I  would  have  tendered  the  palpitating  organ  thumping 
against  my  arm,  and  invited  her  to  stick  pins  into  that,  had 
it  been  practicable  to  get  it  outside  of  my  ribs,  and  she  had 
asked  me  to  do  her  the  trifling  favor. 

She  made  a  bootless  peck  at  a  pin's  head  with  her  gloved 
fingers. 

"  Pshaw  !  what  a  nuisance  a  glove  is  !  "  and  she  com- 
pleted my  distraction  by  stripping  off,  with  a  charming  show 
of  fury,  the  primrose-colored  integument  of  her  right  hand, 
and  attacking  the  pins  successfully  with  bare  digits.  Filbert- 
nailed,  pink-tipped,  taper  rolls  of  snow,  joined  to  a  palm  it 
made  one's  mouth  water  to  behold  !  Lived  there  a  man — 
a  creature  of  tan  and  sinews  and  palpable  knuckles  and 
joints,  of  beard  and  broadcloth — who  could  ever  aspire  to  the 
honor  of  possessing  this  thing  of  wonder  and  beauty,  and 
winning  for  his  heart  and  home,  a  joy  forever! 

My  breath  went  clean  away  for  a  whirling  second.  I  held 
fast  to  the  velvet  heart,  however,  and  let  my  charmer  tug 
with  mirthful  moues,  and  pretty  puckers  of  eyebrows,  at  the 
pins.  Ailsie  had  pushed  them  in  very  far,  and  the  stitches 
were  so  near  together  that  they  stuck  fast,  and  the  pink  tips, 
backed  by  the  nut-shaped  nails,  had  to  pull  valiantly  to  ex- 
tract them.  I  had  sense  enough  left  not  to  volunteer  the 
help  of  fingers  that  were  all  thumbs  beneath  her  eyes.  Nor 


126  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

could  I  have  seen  a  single  pin's  head  distinctly.  Unaided — 
and  unhindered — by  me,  she  pinned  up  her  draperies  in  the 
handiest,  and  most  modest  manner  conceivable.  Not  a 
thread's  width  of  the  white  underskirt  could  be  seen,  and  one 
had  only  chance  and  fleeting  glimpses  of  a  jaunty  gaiter,  en- 
clasping— such  a  foot ! 

"  Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat, 
Like  little  mice,  peep  in  and  out 
As  if  they  feared  the  light—" 

went  around  and  around  in  a  brain  that  was  spinning  too 
fast  for  safety  before  their  appearance  upon  the  scene.  O  rare 
Sir  John  Suckling  !  shrewd  and  kindly  wert  thou  in  prophecy 
as  in  history  of  lovely  conceits  and  the  intoxicating  effects  of 
beauty.  I  got  the  front  door  open — which  was  a  mercy  in 
itself,  and  due  more  to  accident  than  dexterity — and  we  passed 
into  the  outer  night  together,  as  truly  tete-a-tete  as  we  would 
have  been  on  Juan  Fernandez  before  the  discovery  of 
the  uncomfortable  footprint  in  the  sand,  and  this  while  the 
streets  were  resounding  with  steps  and  voices.  Pressley 
Darling  met  us  under  a  street-lamp  near  his  own  door ; 
raised  his  hat  to  my  companion,  and  looked,  I  fancied,  quiz- 
zically at  me.  He  was  an  incorrigible  tease,  but  I  was  in- 
vulnerable to  fear  of  persecution  from  any  source  while  Bes- 
sie (I  had  got  to  tJiat  in  my  thoughts)  grasped  my  arm  more 
tightly  preparatory  to  launching  herself  upon  the  muddy 
crossing. 

"We  shall  have  to  establish  ferries — or  station  Sir  Walter 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  12  J 

Raleigh  at  the  street-corners  before  winter  is  over,"  she 
said,  on  the  other  side,  stamping  her  dainty  gaiters  with  be- 
witching energy  upon  the  sidewalk. 

Internally  I  anathematized  the  substitution,  on  the  part  of 
fashion,  of  tight-fitting,  be-buttoned  and  be-sleeved  surtouts 
for  the  graceful  Spanish  cloak  it  would  have  been  the  act  of 
a  moment  to  disengage  and  fling  bridge-wise  over  the  quag- 
mire. As  to  ferries  !  Hildebrand  might  have  preserved  one 
grain  of  charity  for  Uncle  Kohleborn  in  memory  of  the 
time  when  he  bore  Undine  through  the  knee-deep  and  rising 
torrent. 

I  believe  I  replied  that  "  such  neglect  on  the  part  of  the 
municipal  authorities  was  a  disgrace  to  the  corporation," — 
or  words  to  that  effect.  Some  benevolent  agency  that  was 
not  common-sense  withheld  me  from  the  expression  of  the 
daring  suggestions  I  have  hinted  at  as  rife  in  my  brain — or 
heart.  I  could  no  more  have  decided  which  was  the  seat  of 
the  sensations  mastering  reason,  than  I  would  willingly  have 
gone  back  to  the  estate  of  ignorance  and  unconsciousness, 
but,  as  I  now  felt,  real  misery,  that  was  mine  prior  to  twenty 
minutes  past  five  o'clock  this  blessed  afternoon  of  December 
1 5th,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  18 — . 

It  was  a  foggy  evening  of  a  decidedly  bilious  complexion, 
and,  if  I  must  speak  plainly,  unsavory  odor.  Bessie  called 
my  attention  to  the  peculiar  state  of  the  atmosphere.  Else, 
I  should  have  said  that  the  flaggings  were  "  thick  inlaid  with 
patines  of  bright  gold."  She  would  have  me  stop  several 
times  to  observe  the  yellow  halo  encircling  the  gas-lights, 


128  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

like  the  nimbus  about  a  saintly  head  by  one  of  the  old  mas- 
ters, in  which  the  glory  is  curdled  by  three  centuries'  keeping. 
What  was  my  idea  of  a  "  London  particular  ?  "  asked  the 
sprightly  beauty,  her  spirits,  like  her  loveliness,  proof  against 
damp  and  chill.  She  had  heard  it  said,  laughing  heartily, 
that  it  was  more  like  pea-soup  than  anything  else.  Had  I 
never  been  abroad  ?  Then,  I  would  think  none  the  less  of 
her  for  confessing  that  neither  had  she.  It  was  her  darling 
desire  to  see  the  Old  World ;  Paris,  in  particular.  Should 
she  ever  marry,  she  would  insert  in  the  marriage  contract,  a 
clause  to  the  effect  that  the  bridal  tour  should  be  to  Europe. 

"  That  would  be  delightful, "  I  said,  unable,  for  the  life  of 
me,  to  frame  anything  anything  less  commonplace,  so  pro- 
found was  my  immediate  absorption  in  the  calculation  of  a 
young  physician's  possible  profits  in  the  first  year's  practice. 

It  would  scarcely  justify  the  expense  of  a  double  passage 
over  the  Atlantic  and  corresponding  expenditures  on  the 
other  side,  I  feared. 

She  allayed  the  smart  of  the  misgiving  by  adding,  with 
sweet  considerateness,  that  to  secure  such  a  pleasure  one 
would  be  willing  to  wait  a  long  time.  Indeed,  to  be  candid — 
hadn't  she  told  me  already  that  she  was  the  frankest  girl  that 
ever  breathed  ? — to  be  candid,  she  did  not  believe  in  very 
early  marriages,  and  quite  doted  upon  long  engagements. 
She  had  many  more  serious  reflections  upon  these  subjects 
than  people  gave  her  credit  for.  She  could  not  confide 
them  to  everybody.  Most  elderly  persons  were  so  unsym- 
pathetic, and  a  majority  of  girls  in  this  day  were  so  sordid 


My  LITTLE  LOVE.  129 

and  calculating,  and  given  to  uncharitable  judgment  of  other 
women  !     Her  idea  was — 

"  But  dear  me  !  I  am  forgetting  that  you  were  an  utter 
stranger  to  me,  an  hour  since.  Although,  to  be  sure,  I  have 
heard  so  much  about  you  from  that  lovely  Miss  Marr,  my 
better  angel,  I  name  her,  that  it  seems  as  if  I  had  known 
you  for  years." 

I  cleared  my  throat.  The  fog  had  got  into  it,  I  think. 
Something  closed  up  the  windpipe. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so.  I,  too,  find  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  we  were  ever  strangers." 

"  It  is  you  who  are  good  now!  You  don't  know  how  en- 
tirely that  sets  my  scruples  aside,  how  easy  and  confidential 
it  makes  me  feel.  I  was  going  to  say,  when  I  remembered 
how  shocked  prudent  people  (  don't  that  word  come  from 
prude  ?)  would  be  at  my  doing  it,  that  in  my  opinion,  while 
there  is  much  truth  in  the  theory  of  kindred  souls,  and 
matches  made  in  heaven,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  those 
designed  for  one  another  by  Providence,  should,  as  soon  as 
they  suspect  that  this  is  so,  begin  to  prepare  themselves, 
spiritually  and  mentally,  for  that  union.  Tupper  says,  or 
somebody  told  me  he  said  it,  I  never  saw  the  book — '  If  thou 
art  to  have  a  wife  of  thy  youth,  she  is  now  living  upon  the 
earth.  Therefore,  pray  for  her.'  Not,  as  a  witty  friend  of 
mine  interprets  it :  '  pray  that  you  may  get  her ' — but  that 
she  maybe  good  and  wise  and  fit  for  you.  And  he  might 
have  said,  '  Pray  that  thou  mayst  be  made  worthy  of  so 
good  a  wife.' " 
6* 


13°  •    MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

11  Those  are  noble  sentiments  !  "  said  I,  enthusiastically. 

Her  depth  of  thought  and  elegance  of  diction  were  as 
captivating  as  her  beauty  of  feature  and  poetry  of  motion. 
How  happened  it  that  this  rare  and  radiant  maiden  had  lived 
in  the  same  city  with  myself,  perhaps  ever  since  the  world 
was  brightened  by  her  birth,  and  the  lines  of  our  existence 
had  never  crossed  ?  Were  there  no  indexical  heart-nerves  to 
make  me  magnetically  aware  that  she  was,  and  near  me  ? 
To  few  men  is  it  given  to  behold  the  incarnation  of  the 
ideal  upon  which  have  been  expended  the  thoughts  and 
fancies  of  years  of  waiting  and  longing.  This  fortune  was 
mine  and  I  had  come  into  my  kingdom  in  the  very  spring- 
time of  my  manhood. 

Another  crossing — most  sloppy  and  miry  of  all.  I  sup- 
ported her  over  it  as  skilfully  as  I  could  ;  first,  planting  my 
foot  in  the  muddiest  spots,  and  partly  persuading,  partly 
compelling  her  to  tread  on  my  instep,  while,  by  taking  both 
hands,  I  assisted  her  in  an  airy  leap  to  firmer  standing-ground. 
The  gaiters  came  to  grief  in  the  transit.  She  looked  dolor- 
ously down  at  them  in  the  yellow  light  on  the  farther  corner. 

"  Do  you  never  wear  India-rubber  overshoes  ?  "  questioned 
I,  as  mournful  as  herself  over  the  damage. 

"  Never  if  I  can  help  it !  the  great  lumbering  things  !  I 
walk  in  them  as  if  shod  with  lead." 

I  could  comprehend  how  a  very  light  clog  would  embarrass 
the  feet  that  skimmed  the  puddles  like  a  petrel's.  But  the 
instincts  of  my  profession — that-was-to-be — were  aroused. 

"  Are  you  aware  that   you  risk  your  valuable   health — 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  131 

and — "  I  just  made  out  to  say  it — "life  itself  by  getting  your 
shoes  damp  ?  " 

"  What  a  tremendous  warning  !  and  uttered  in  a  tremen- 
dous way  !  "  she  smiled,  her  eyes  grappling  my  silly  soul,  and 
forcing  it  to  the  surface  of  mine. 

It  took  a  long  time  to  beat  and  scrape  the  clay  from  the 
soles  and  sides  of  the  boots,  and  we  were  still  within  the  area 
of  the  gamboge  light,  the  fog  curtaining  us  from  all  but 
the  nearest  passers-by.  She  waited  until  the  task  was  com- 
pleted before  adding  seriously,  even  sadly  : 

"  I  may  regard  life  as  the  choice  possession  you  seem  to 
think  it,  at  some  future  date.  I  do  not,  now." 

"  It  is  of  inestimable  value  to  others ! "  returned  I, 
vehemently,  as  we  walked  on. 

"  fen  doute.     A  qui,  par  exemple?" 

How  lucky  that  I  understood  spoken  French  !  How  awk- 
ward that  I  could  not  speak  it !  My  English  was  the  clash 
of  rusty  iron,  after  a  silver  chime. 

"  To  those  who  love  you  !  " 

Was  I  misled  by  my  own  agitation,  or  did  the  hand  upon 
my  anii  shake  ?  She  did  not  reply  directly.  When  she  spoke 
it  was  doubtfully. 

"  And  you  imagine  that  they  are  many  ?  " 

"  They  should  be  !  " 

At  heart  I  was  fierce  with  the  thought  that  any  other  man 
should  dare  look  at  her  admiringly.  I  would  have  rejoiced 
to  strangle  him  who  should  cast  loving  eyes  upon  her.  But 
the  truth  had  to  be  spoken.  No  one  with  a  heart  in  his 


1 3  2  My  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

bosom  and  warm  blood  in  his  veins  could  fail  to  love  her 
fondly, — were  he  young  and  passionate,  madly. 

"  Wait  and  see  ! "  she  answered,  with  an  obvious  effort  to 
resume  our  gay  strain.  "  This  is  my  home  !  Come  in — 
won't  you  ?" 

Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine  women  in  every  thousand 
would  have  worded  the  invitation  very  differently,  had  they 
given  it  at  all  in  the  circumstances.  Her  frankness  was  a 
delicious  contrast  to  the  conventionalities  that  governed  her 
sex  as  a  body,  said  the  modern  Caspar  to  the  inflated  ig- 
noramus he  knew  as  his  inner  self. 

"  You  are  kind — too  kind  !  "  Her  eyes  had  dragged  me 
up  the  steps  and  her  hand  was  upon  the  bell-knob.  "  I  ap- 
preciate your  great  goodness.  But  I  should  not  presume  to 
do  so,  yet.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  call  at  some  other 
time—" 

"  As  often  and  as  soon  as  you  like  ! " 

Without  ringing  the  bell,  still  holding  the  knob,  she  faced 
me. 

"  I  mean  that.  As  often  as  you  like  !  Come  whenever 
you  want  to  come.  When  you  do  not,  you  will  oblige  me  by 
pleasing  yourself.  If  you  care  at  all  to  come  in,  now,  say 
so  without  fear  or  favor.  One  and  all,  we  in  this  house  are 
sworn  enemies  of  useless  ceremonies.  My  mother — you 
see  I  understand  les  moyens  et  les  mceurs — will  be  glad  to  re- 
ceive you,  Mr.  Haye,  as  my  friend  and  as  Miss  Marr's  friend, 
and  overjoyed  to  see  you  drink  a  cup  of  her  choice  tea,  now, 
or  at  any  time.  My  father  will  shake  hands  and  bid  you 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  133 

welcome  ;  tell  you  that  the  weather  is  foggy  and  the  times 
dull,  and  forget  all  about  you,  two  minutes  thereafter,  behind 
his  newspaper.  My  brother  '  did  a-wooing  go,'  this  after- 
noon, thus  obliging  you  to  be  here  at  this  hour,  '  whether 
your  mother  would  or  no.'  You  behold,  before  you,  the 
residue  of  the  family  party  you  dread  to  encounter.  Will 
you  enter — or,  go  away  ?  " 

She  rang  the  bell. 

Of  course,  I  followed  her  into  a  lighted  and  carpeted  hall, 
and  obeyed  when  she  showed  me  that  my  hat  and  surtout 
were  to  hang  upon  the  bronze  rack  that  stood  there. 

"  Now  !  " 

With  the  most  seraphic  smile  she  had  yet  bestowed  upon 
her  slave,  she  signaled  me  to  attend  her  into  the  parlor. 

A  bald-headed  gentleman  with  gold  spectacles  astride  of 
his  nose,  read  a  newspaper  by  the  centre-table.  A  lady,  with 
a  dressy  cap  set  above  a  very  black  front  of  curls,  was  dozing 
in  a  corner  arm-chair. 

"  Papa  !  "  said  Bessie,  convoying  me  to  the  front.  "  My 
friend  and  Miss  Evelyn  Marr's  very  particular  friend,  Mr. 
Haye,  who  most  benevolently  escorted  me  home  when  Fred 
had  forgotten  me.  He  has  kindly  consented  to  stay  to  tea, 
mamma." 

She  waved  me  to  a  seat  when  the  predicted  welcomes 
were  over,  and  saying,  "  Excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes  ! " 
floated  away. 

Mr.  Barnes  and  I  had  considered  the  weather — fog  in- 
cluded— exhaustively,  and  were  edging  toward  politics  be- 


1 34  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

fore  the  return  of  the  household  fairy.  I  had  even  had  time 
to  collar  and  shake  myself,  mentally,  and  ask  my  sober  con- 
sciousness how  I  got  into  this  house,  and  what  I  proposed  to 
myself  by  staying  there.  I  had  intended  definitively — if  my 
memory  were  faithful  in  recalling  resolutions  antedating  the 
beatitude  of  my  Now — to  spend  this  evening  with  Aunt  Evy. 
I  had  left  upon  her  table  a  book  I  had  carried  to  her  that 
afternoon,  with  the  proposal  that  I  should  read  it  aloud,  be- 
ginning after  supper  that  very  night.  My  presence  in  Mrs. 
Barnes's  parlor  was  a  breach  of  faith  with  her.  My  accept- 
ance of  the  invitation  to  tea  was  an  infraction  of  the  simplest 
rules  of  social  etiquette.  I  was  no  society  man,  but  I  had 
taken  in  many  such  facts,  by  absorption,  having  lived  for 
twenty-one  years  in  an  atmosphere  of  good  breeding.  It 
may  have  been  the  unfamiliar  furniture  and  pattern  of  the 
carpet ;  perhaps  the  style  of  Mrs.  Barnes's  head-dress,  so  dis- 
similar to  that  worn  by  my  stepmother,  and  yet  more  unlike 
Mrs1.  Darling's  breakfast-caps  and  evening  lappets  of  fine  lace 
— that  prompted  me  to  this  spasm  of  common  sense. 
Whatever  brought  it  on,  it  was  the  last  seizure  of  the  kind 
until  the  end  of  the  nine  days'  run  of  fever. 

Scruples,  misgivings,  regrets,  vanished  as  mists  at  a  rush 
of  westerly  winds,  leaving  blue  depths  overhead  and  a  flood 
of  glory  over  all  the  earth,  with  the  reopening  of  the  parlor 
doors,  I  seemed  to  have  been  born  and  bred  in  that  room, 
and  to  have  lived  ecstatically  all  the  days  of  the  years  of  my 
life  in  sight  of  the  looming  peak  of  Mrs.  Barnes's  turban,  by 
the  time  Bessie  swam  around  before  me,  superseraphic  in  a 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  135 

pink  silk  robe  and  tulle  cape.  She  "  always  dressed  for  the 
evening,"  but  not  knowing  this  important  circumstance,  at 
that  date,  the  apparition  was  doubly  dazzling. 

We  went  into  supper  shortly,  and  my  chair  was  opposite 
Bessie's.  My  impression  is  that  the  table  was  bountifully 
spread — profusion  that  sacrificed  taste  to  abundance.  I 
recollect  more  clearly  that  Mrs.  Barnes — now  awake,  yet 
disposed  to  taciturnity — pressed  every  dish  upon  me  again 
and  yet  again,  with  gestures  more  urgent  than  words,  until  I 
made  it  a  rule  to  decline  nothing.  Most  distinct  is  my 
remembrance  of  the  ambrosial  flavor  of  all  that  entered  my 
mouth,  for  I  was  continually  catching  Bessie's  eye,  and 
warming  into  more  zestful  relish  of  life  under  her  smile.  We 
had  the  tea-table  conversation  to  ourselves.  Mr.  Barnes 
read  all  the  while  he  was  gulping  down  cups  of  scalding  tea 
and  bolting  fried  oysters,  and  eating  custards  with  a  dessert- 
spoon. His  wife  was  quietly  hungry,  besides  being  as  dili- 
gently as  she  was  dumbly  hospitable.  It  was  very  unlike  a 
meal  with  the  Darlings.  I  noticed  that,  even  then.  But 
the  beauteous  being  exactly  across  the  board,  shedding  the 
effulgence  of  her  orbs  into  my  soul,  made  amends  for  all  de- 
ficiencies, harmonized  discrepancies.  How  she  would  glorify 
a  home  of  her  own  !  In  the  genuine  missionary  spirit,  I 
panted  for  the  opportunity  to  see  her  rightly  placed — to  make 
the  setting  worthy  of  the  gem. 

The  cream  of  the  evening  arose  for  my  delectation  with 
our  withdrawal  from  the  debris  of  the  feast,  to  the  parlor. 
The  elders  with  amiable  discretion  remained  in  the  supper- 


136  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

room.  I  did  not  mean  to  pry  into  family  reserves,  but  I 
could  not  avoid  seeing,  while  bowing  to  Bessie  to  precede 
me  from  the  apartment,  that  Mr.  Barnes  passed  his  cup  to 
his  wife  for  a  fifth  replenishment,  and  hearing  his  order  to  the 
servant  to  "  bring  in  another  plate  of  waffles."  It  was  clear 
to  me  already,  although  our  acquaintance  was  not  three 
hours  old,  that  Bessie's  will  was  the  law  of  the  household, 
whenever  she  chose  to  exert  authority.  In  view  of  this,  it 
should,  according  to  my  estimate  of  my  divinity,  have  been 
a  perfectly-ordered  establishment.  Whereas,  I  cannot  deny 
that  the  only  order  of  things  seemed  to  be  that  of  liberty  of 
action  and  bodily  solacement. 

Bessie  was  the  embodiment  of  both,  as  she  took  possession 
of  a  semi-chair,  semi-divan,  which  she  told  me  was  made  ex- 
pressly for  her.  It  was  luxurious  to  a  charm — a  marvellous 
construction  of  springs  and  padding,  rosewood  and  leaf- 
brown  satin,  and  her  pose  within  it  was  also  a  marvel.  We 
sat  in  the  back-parlor,  devoted,  she  gave  me  to  understand, 
to  her  evening  use — "  when  she  cared  to  be  particularly 
lazy." 

There  were  two  sofas,  and  besides  her  tauseuse,  two 
easy  chairs.  The  windows  were  heavily  curtained  ;  there 
were  pictures,  and  upon  a  tripod  in  a  corner,  a  statuette  of 
Silence  with  her  finger  upon  her  lip.  A  fluffy  rug  was  before 
the  glowing  grate.  At  Bessie's  left  hand  was  a  stand  bear- 
ing a  vase  of  flowers.  The  shades  of  the  chandelier  were  of 
softly-clouded  glass.  Beyond  three  or  four  cushions  laid 
here  and  there  on  the  floor,  there  was  no  other  furniture  in 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  137 

the  room  than  that  I  have  described.  It  was  a  place  in 
which  to  rest  and  dream — and  love. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  a  stupid  evening,"  said  Bessie, 
looking  at  me  under  drooping  lids  that  veiled — not  dulled 
her  eyes,  the  dimples  glancing  in  and  out,  while  her  mouth 
was  drawn  down  in  affected  commiseration.  "  The  pea-soup 
is  thicker  than  when  we  were  out.  It  is  not  likely  that  any 
one  will  venture  through  it  for  the  doubtful  delight  of  seeing 
me.  It  is  a  pity,  for  I  have  some  pleasant  friends  whom  you 
would  enjoy  meeting." 

"  That  is  the  doubtful  delight,"  rejoined  I.  "The  fog  is  a 
godsend.  I  desire  no  society  except  that  which  I  have." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  abruptly  unveiling  the  twin  globes 
of  light,  and  giving  me  such  a  benefit  as  made  my  wits  reel 
again.  The  quinine  and  brandy  I  had  imbibed  during  my 
spell  of  typhoid  had  never  made  me  half  so  crazy. 

"  I  do  !  I  should  wish  my  dearest  friend  at  the  antipodes 
were  he  to  enter  now." 

"  Please  pull  that  bell-rope  ? "  she  asked  in  the  same 
abrupt  way. 

I  obeyed,  slightly  startled  and  altogether  at  a  loss  as  to 
what  was  coming  next.  A  maid  appeared,  to  whom  her 
young  mistress  gave  this  order  : 

"  If  any  one — no  matter  who — calls  this  evening,  say  that 
I  am  not  at  home.  Now,"  turning  to  me  with  irresistible 
grace — "  you  must  be  very  agreeable — fascinating,  indeed, 
to  recompense  me  for  my  possible  losses.  I  will  grant  you 
five  minutes'  grace  in  which  to  arrange  your  ideas." 


138  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

I  needed  it  all,  and  more. 

The  coal  was  heaped  high  in  the  grate  ;  white  and  violet 
flames  quivering  up  to  the  apex  of  the  pile  ;  the  radiance 
from  the  chandelier  favored  the  finest  points  of  the  picture 
beneath,  making  more  pure  the  complexion,  darkening  the 
eyes,  and  casting  over  neck  and  the  lower  part  of  the  face  a 
tender  flush,  I  was  not  cool  enough  to  see,  was  the  reflection 
from  the  sheeny  pink  silk. 

"  Cool !  "  I  was  a  college-boy — raw  in  years  and  experi- 
ence— by  nature  affectionate,  but  who  had  but  lately  learned 
to  taste  the  delights  of  home  and  friendship.  The  Darlings 
had  "  drawn  me  out,"  most  beneficially  to  myself,  so  far  as 
my  intercourse  with  them  was  concerned.  For  the  rest,  dis- 
cretion could  come  from  experience  alone. 

The  streets  were  unusually  quiet.  One  could  imagine 
the  veil  of  fog  closing  about  the  room,  in  whose  glowing 
centre  we  sat,  to  seclude  us  from  curious  or  indifferent  intru- 
ders. Bessie,  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  leaned  back  in  her 
lounging-chair  and  studied  the  rings  on  the  hand  that  reposed 
in  the  pink  silk  nest  of  her  lap,  like  an  alabaster  cast  in 
jeweler's  cotton. 

I,  from  the  "conversation  chair"  at  her  right,  sat  up 
straight  and  studied  her,  in  enhancement  approximating 
delirium,  and  repeated  more  love-verses  to  myself  than  I  had 
believed  that  I  had  ever  read  or  heard. 

"Well?"  said  a  languidly  sweet  voice,  presently,  and  I 
knew  the  five  minutes'  grace  was  past. 

I  laughed,   foolishly.      It  was  awkward,   this  peremptory 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  139 

draft  upon  my  powers  of  fascination,  and  I  shirked  incon- 
tinently in  the  very  glow  of  gratified  vanity,  proposing,  bung- 
lingly,  that  we  "  should  have  some  music." 

"  I  need  not  ask  if  you  sing,"  jumping  up  with  alacrity. 
"  But  the  piano  is  in  the  other  room,  isn't  it  ?  " 

It  was,  and  the  folding  doors  were  closed  between  the  par- 
lors. 

Bessie  did  not  move  so  much  as  her  head.  The  alabaster 
hand  nestled,  stirless,  in  its  silken  nook. 

"  Not  a  note  ! "  she  declared  calmly.  "  I  don't  know  one 
tune  from  another.  The  piano  is  for  the  use  of  visitors. 
You  are  welcome  to  try  it,  if  you  have  a  liking  for  a  musical 
jingle.  It  is  in  fair  tune,  so  Fred  says." 

I  stammered  a  hasty  disclaimer,  aud  resumed  the  seat  set 
at  an  attractive  relative  position  to  hers. 

"  One  takes  it  for  granted  that  all  young  ladies  play  and 
sing,  and  like  to  be  asked  to  do  it,"  said  I,  asininely. 

She  lifted  her  pretty  brows. 

"  Ah  !  but  you  see,  my  good  sir,  I  am  not  an  accomplished 
young  lady.  I  can  manage  some  dozen  phrases  of  French, 
can  spell  and  write  decently,  et  voild  tout.  Except  to  be 
happy  all  day  long.  Nor  do  I  like  to  do  things  for  no 
better  reason  than  because  I  am  expected  to  do  them.  Half 
the  fun  of  life  is  in  disappointing  people.  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  I  confess  that  is  an  untried  experience  with  me,"  began  I, 
hesitatingly. 

"That  is  because  you  are  a  man.     You  don't  begin  to  en- 


1 40  My  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

ter  into  the  subtleties  of  human  nature  as  women  do.  Said 
a  lady — a  pattern  woman — to  me,  the  other  day  : 

" '  My  dear,  since  you  are  not  musical,  do  you  draw  or 
paint  ? ' 

"  '  No,  ma'am,'  answered  I  meekly. 

"  I  am  always  meek  to  models. 

" '  7/zdeed  !  But  you  are  doubtless  an  adept  in  fancy 
work  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  even  own  a  thimble  or  a  crochet  needle,'  said 
I,  fearfully  crushed,  but  sincere  to  the  death. 

"  '  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  no  accomplish- 
ments ! " 

"  '  None,  except  that  I  always  speak  the  truth,  madam.' " 

Her  laugh  pealed  out  like  the  springing  of  a  spray  of  sleigh 
bells,  and  I  joined  in  heartily. 

Were  ever  such  naivete  and  sprightliness,  such  moral  and 
personal  graces,  united  in  another  creature  of  mortal  mould  ? 
How  despicable  did  the  thread-bare  maneuvres  of  husband- 
hunting  maidens  and  calculating  mammas  appear,  beside  the 
guileless  frankness  that  declared  herself  to  be  neither  useful 
nor  ornamental  in  the  popular  acceptation  of  the  term  ! 

"  Do  you  remember  the  reply  of  the  Persian  poet  Hafiz, 
when  asked  by  a  utilitarian  what  was  the  use  of  poetry  ?  "  I 
inquired. 

She  shook  her  head  in  charming  wilfulness. 

"  I  am  an  ignoramus.  I  know  nothing  from  books.  You 
will  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  me.  I  never  forget  what  is 
told  to  me,  face  to  face.  If  I  like  the  storyteller,  that  is." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  141 

I  bowed.  "  The  poet  answered  by  asking,  '  What  is  the 
use  of  a  rose?'  'To  smell,'  was  the  reply.  'And  I  am 
good  to  smell  it,'  said  Hafiz.  You  have  discovered  the  very 
poetry  of  living,  Miss  Barnes." 

"  I  believe  I  have,"  she  said,  ingenuously.  "  People  make 
life  so  hard  and  earnest !  It  is  all  dollars  and  cents  and  pork 
and  beans  for  the  strong,  mush  and  molasses  for  the  weak. 
If  I  had  my  way,  the  world  should  be  one  big  rose  garden, 
and  all  the  inhabitants  thereof  butterflies.  Your  pattern  wo- 
man, now,  would  have  it  a  field  of  buckwheat,  and  stock  it 
with  bees.  The  "  pattern  "  was  a  bee,  herself,  in  a  former  state 
of  existence.  All  business  and  sting.  Packing  away  honey 
by  the  pound  for  her  own  use,  and  grudging  so  much  as  a  drop 
to  anybody  else." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN   CLOVER. 

HE  bilious  fog  was  so  dense  at  eleven 
o'clock,  when  I  tore  myself  away  from  the 
beaming  presence  enthroned  in  the  leaf- 
brown  satin  causeuse,  that  it  was  strange  I 
did  not  lose  my  way  irremediably  in  the  walk  to 
my  nominal  home.  I  did  take  wrong  crossings 
and  blunder  against  dead  walls,  in  a  style  that 
would  have  excited  damaging  suspicions  in  the 
minds  of  beholders,  had  there  been  any.  I  did 
not  meet  a  dozen  men  in  the  half  mile  separating  my 
paternal  mansion  from  the  enchanted  palace  I  had  left. 

Preoccupied  as  I  was  with  my  novel  happiness,  and  in  the 
celestial  masonry  known  as  castle-building,  I  could  not  but 
observe  the  phenomenal  appearance  of  these  few  plunging 
suddenly  upon  the  vision  at  arm's  length,  as  if  projected  to 
the  surface  of  the  pea-soup  by  an  unseen  ladle.  Nor  did 
the  increasing  unsavoriness  of  the  bilious  broth  escape  my 
notice — a  flavor  as  if  it  had  been  scorched  in  the  boiling, 
and  kept  too  long  afterward.  Pavements  and  brick  walls 
dripped  with  the  unwholesome  steam.  It  beaded  my  hat 
and  overcoat,  and  clogged  my  hair.  If  any  germs  of  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE:  143 

fever  that  had  brought  me  nigh  to  the  grave's  mouth  were 
lurking  in  my  system,  the  odor  and  dampness  were  the  most 
favorable  conditions  for  their  development.  I  did  not  give 
my  own  danger  a  thought.  The  shadow  that  sped  over  my 
dream-world,  as  I  fitted  the  latch-key  into  my  father's  door, 
and  felt  that  the  panels  streamed  with  wet,  was  : 

"  Heavens  !  what  a  climate  for  her  to  live  in  !  And  she 
never  wears  rubber  overshoes,  if  she  can  help  it !  " 

The  hall  lamp  was  extinguished.  I  might  be  tolerably 
confident  of  receiving  a  step-maternal  tirade  at  breakfast, 
pathetically  rounded  by  a  recapitulation  of  the  various 
images  of  dread  that  beset  the  sleepless  hour  preceding  my 
return,  wherein  burglars,  false  keys,  wayside  assassins, 
gambling-hells  and  heart-disease — since  I  was  not  of  an 
apoplectic  build — relieved  one  another  in  frightful  succes- 
sion in  the  matronly  imagination.  Nevertheless,  I  trod  the 
perversely  creaking  stairs — soundless  by  day — with  an  undis- 
mayed spirit.  My  panoply  was  lecture-proof.  The  supposi- 
tion that  aught  mundane  save  the  loss  of  my  lately  created 
hopes  could  hurt  or  molest  me,  exceeded  my  store  of 
credulity. 

My  bed-room  was  cheerless.  The  chambermaid  had  left 
a  sash  lowered  for  the  space  of  six  inches  from  the  top, 
after  "  redding  up  "  in  the  forenoon,  and  nobody  had  cared  or 
thought  to  close  it.  The  air  tasted  and  smelled  and  clung 
like  a  dilution  of  the  pea-broth  outside.  Yet  I  lighted  my 
study-lamp,  and  pored  over  Byron  for  a  good  hour  before 
my  pulses  were  quiet  enough  to  promise  sleep. 


144  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Mr.  Gilder  did  not  write  "  The  New  Day "  until  a  score 
of  years  later,  or  I  should  have  sought  no  other  priest  to 
direct  my  devotions.  Says  a  sapient  critic,  with  whom  it  is 
to  be  presumed  the  new  day  of  love  has  become  an  old 
story,  "  Our  only  objection  to  the  volume  is  that  no  one, 
save  a  lover,  can  enter  fully  into  its  beauties." 

I  would  have  revelled  in  its  boscages  of  musk-roses,  and 
rolled  ecstatically  upon  its  spice-beds,  and  drunk  to  divinest 
intoxication  of  its  choice  vintage ;  steeped  myself  to 
translucency  in  its  sunsets  and  risings. 

I  laid  me  down  to  think  of  Bessie  until  I  slept  to  pursue 
her  in  dreams,  and  awoke  at  daydawn,  to  exult  anew  in  the 
recollection  that  she  was  a  human  entity,  and  that  I  loved 
her.  It  is  idle  to  relate  that,  although  her  house  lay  in  a 
direction  diametrically  opposite  to  the  route  I  should  have 
taken  in  order  to  reach  college  punctually  for  morning 
prayers,  I  passed  it  in  going  to  my  lectures,  and  re-passed  it 
when  the  classes  were  dismissed  for  the  day,  at  two  o'clock. 
No  one  was  visible  about  the  premises,  either  time,  dili- 
gently as  I  scanned  the  windows,  from  the  attic  half-story  to 
the  well-sunken  basement.  A  flutter  of  Mother  Barnes's 
ribbons  would  have  been  some  stay  to  my  fainting  soul.  A 
section  of  Bessie's  shadow  upon  a  window-blind  would  have 
been  solid  comfort.  I  was  left  to  such  mitigation  of  my 
thirst  as  I  could  wring  from  contemplation  of  the  stone  steps 
that  last  night  were  pressed  by  the  No.  2  gaiters,  French 
make. 

By  a  blessed  slip  of  her  dear,  frank  tongue,  I  had  learned 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  145 

at  what  hour  she  took  her  afternoon  constitutional,  and  in 
what  direction.  Three  o'clock  found  me  dressed  within  an 
inch  of  my  life,  haunting  the  square  the  Barnes  house 
helped  to  make  highly  respectable,  in  a  divided  agony — the 
dread  of  being  espied  and  ridiculed  by  chance  spectators, 
and  the  apprehension  that  my  quarry  might  flit  away  while 
my  regards  were  withdrawn  from  the  front  door.  Fate  was 
more  clement  than  I  had  dared  hope  for.  At  twenty-five 
minutes-and-a-quarter  past  three,  the  oaken  (imitation) 
portal  moved  upon  its  hinges,  gaped  slowly  until  the  open 
door- way  framed  for  me  a  vision  of  one  fair  woman — 
Bessie  in  irreproachable  walking  costume,  pulling  on  a  pair 
of  pearl-gray  gloves.  They  were  a  neat  fit,  and  being  new 
required  such  cautious  adjustment  to  each  taper  finger  that 
I  had  time  to  saunter  up  at  a  sloth's  pace,  and  lift  my  hat 
with  as  flimsy  an  affectation  of  a  casual  passage  through  that 
precinct  of  the  great  city  as  was  ever  undertaken  by  fledge- 
ling lover. 

The  pretence  became  the  essence  of  fatuity  when  she 
tripped  down  to  the  side-walk  with  a  nod  of  welcome. 

"  Good-afternoon  !  I  saw  you  go  by  a  while  ago — twice — 
and  hoped  you  were  loitering  about  somewhere,  waiting  for 
me." 

Denial  would  have  been  such  useless  falsehood  that  I 
resigned  the  idea  at  once. 

"  Like  Chevy  Slyme,  round  the  corner  ?  "  I  said,  falling 
into  step  as  she  took  her  course  up  the  street. 

"  Eh  ?  Is  that  a  classical  allusion  ?  Then,  you'll  have  to 
7 


146  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

explain  it.  I  never  read  English  classics.  It  is  too  much 
like  work." 

"  Not  even  Dickens  ?  " 

"  Can't  abide  him  !  I  was  sickened  out  with  him  in  my 
tender  youth,  when  I  rashly  undertook  to  please  a  literary 
stripling  by  reading  Oliver  Twist.  Such  low  stuff  as  it  was  ! 
Now  I've  shocked  you,  but  I  can't  help  it.  If  I  speak  at 
all  I  must  be  sincere." 

"  Truth  is  always  better  than  fiction — even  Dickens'  fancy 
pictures,"  replied  I,  more  fervently  than  the  occasion 
warranted. 

She  peeped  up  at  me  sidewise  like  a  bird — the  shy,  pleased 
look  of  a  child,  yet  full  of  witchery. 

All  her  lips  said  was  :  "  How  nice  and  tall  you  are  !  A 
short  man  is  my  favorite  detestation.  You  carry  yourself 
well,  too — a  remarkable  thing  for  one  so  slight  who  has 
grown  rapidly." 

Had  she  declared  to  me  in  round  terms,  "  You  are 
eminently  good  looking,  and  have  the  carriage  of  a  gentle- 
man. It  pleases  me  to  be  seen  in  your  escort,"  she  could 
not  have  conveyed  the  sense  of  glance  and  remark  more 
distinctly  to  my  mind.  Nor,  had  I  been  the  vainest  of  sap- 
headed  coxcombs,  could  I  have  been  more  elated  by  the 
flattery. 

If  questioned,  I  should,  doubtless,  have  described  the 
progress  of  the  ensuing  ninety  minutes  as  a  promenade, 
whereas  it  was,  in  truth,  a  flight  such  as  rational  people 
know  in  dreams  only ; — the  ineffable  flowing — not  so  gross  a 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  14? 

motion  as  floating — through  ambient  air  of  an  etherealized 
personality  that  has  arisen  superior  to  the  power  of  gravi- 
tation and  the  restraints  of  friction.  We  wonder,  in  our 
dreams,  why  we  have  never  done  it  before  and  always,  it  is 
so  easy  and  altogether  natural,  and  resolve  never  to  descend 
to  the  ignominious  step-by-step  upon  the  rough  earth.  We 
do  come  down,  however,  in  our  visions,  or  at  our  awakening, 
and  even  love  cannot  soar  forever. 

My  time  for  descent  was  not  yet.  Throughout  our  inter- 
view of  that  day,  my  head  was  as  light  as  a  feather,  and  my 
heels  as  light  as  my  head.  Our  course  up-town,  down-town, 
and  everywhere  rangers,  might  better  be  likened  to  the  sail- 
ing through  aerial  space,  of  a  brace  of  love-birds,  holding 
the  opposite  ends  of  a  love-knot  in  their  beaks,  than  to  any 
method  of  terrestrial  locomotion.  This  was  my  simile,  and 
had  my  native  frankness  equalled  Bessie's,  I  should  have 
made  a  greater  goose  of  myself  by  giving  it  expression.  I 
have  not  the  least  recollection  of  what  we  talked  about, 
only  that  when  I  had  become  somewhat  accustomed  to  my 
exaltation,  my  tongue  was  more  at  my  command  and  I 
could  reply,  as  well  as  listen. 

We  said   "  Good-by,"  lingeringly,  at  her  door. 

There  was  a  family  of  inquisitive  maiden  sisters  across 
the  way,  as  I  was  informed  at  a  later  day,  who  frequented 
the  street  windows  with  such  pertinacity  that  Fred  Barnes 
had  named  their  domicile,  *'  the  pigeon-house."  Being 
'"proper"  and  "pattern"  women,  they  were  within  the  pale 
of  Bessie's  vindictiveness.  In  the  main  she  was  amiable 


148  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

generous  to  a  fault  when  giving  did  not  involve  self-denial ; 
placable  to  everybody  after  the  flurry  of  resentment  for  real 
or  supposed  injury  was  over — always  excepting  prudes. 
Her  antipathy  to  them  was  of  a  violent  and  incurable  type. 
J  believe  she  would  have  risked  a  blight  to  her  own  reputa- 
tion in  order  to  accomplish  the  disgrace  of  one  of  the  spe- 
cies. Considering,  now,  that  she  could  do  her  opposite 
neighbors  and  natural  enemies  no  unkinder  turn  than  to 
display  in  their  sight  a  new  claimant  for  her  favor  as  con- 
spicuously as  was  compatible  with  a  liberal  rendering  of  the 
proprieties,  she  kept  me  talking  on  the  threshold,  making  of 
herself  a  prettier  picture  than  ever,  by  sidelong  and  down- 
cast looks  and  blushes,  palpable  enough  to  be  visible  to  the 
lynx-eyed  watchers.  Without  misgiving  as  to  her  motives,  I 
enjoyed  her  attitudinizing  in  good  faith  as  long  as  she  would 
permit  me  to  stay. 

"  I  shall  hear  of  this  tableau  again — probably  a  dozen 
times,"  she  broke  off  a  remark  to  say,  at  length.  "  We 
have  given  our  friends  over  the  way  food  for  a  month's 
gossip — as  I  meant  we  should.  Since  you  won't  come  in,  I 
won't  keep  you  standing  in  the  cold.  Au  revoir  !  " 

She  kissed  her  glove-tips  before  shutting  the  door  in  my 
face.  I  accepted  the  dismission  with  the  feeling  that  I  was 
bound  to  be  grateful  for  something.  1  could  not  have 
brought  myself  to  remind  the  thoughtless  child  that  she  had 
not  once  invited  me  into  the  house,  although  she  was  per- 
suaded that  she  had  and  that  I  had  refused.  I  was  afraid — I 
was  sure — that  I  should  have  gone  in  and  again  partaken  of 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  149 

Mrs.  Barnes's  glorified  tea,  and  done  fresh  violence  to  les  con- 
venances by  remaining  upon  the  hallowed  ground  until  mid- 
night less  sixty  minutes,  had  she  repaired  the  omission.  Yet 
I  convinced  myself  that  there  was  a  strain  of  heroic  self- 
abnegation  in  my  forbearing  to  spur  the  memory  of  the  in- 
genuous angel,  and  to  plod  homeward  through  the  gathering 
dusk,  to  study  up  for  the  morrow's  lectures. 

It  was  a  help  to  my  virtuous  resolve  to  keep  before  me 
the  goal  of  earthly  hope  and  endeavor — the  prospect  of  the 
wedding-trip  to  Europe.  Impatient  to  be  about  the  busi- 
ness that  might — that  should — bring  this  to  pass,  I  hurried 
through  my  supper  striving  to  appear  sublimely  regardless 
of  my  sister's  queries,  and  my  brother's  raillery  upon  what 
he  described  as  my  "uncommon  heavy  dyke" —  being  slang 
for  a  "  grand  get-up,"  which  is  slang,  one  degree  more  intel- 
ligible, for  one's  best  clothes. 

My  stepmother  smiled  sourly  at  the  refined  badinage. 
My  father  did  not  seem  to  listen.  He  was  a  grave  man  who 
never  laid  aside  business  even  in  his  sleep — dreaming,  as  I 
have  heard  him  say,  of  stocks  and  bonds  and  mortgages.  I 
tried  to  imitate  his  mien  of  genuine  indifference,  but  my 
forehead  flushed  darkly  at  thrust  and  equivoque.  Mine  had 
never  been  a  very  happy  home,  yet  I  doubt  if  I  had  ever 
rated  it  as  positively  miserable  until  that  evening.  I  sat 
bowed  over  my  table,  my  head  on  a  fat  volume  of  essays 
upon  Political  Economy,  for  a  long  time  after  I  went  to  my 
room,  a  prey  to  alternate  fits  of  rapture  and  distress  as  I 
contrasted  the  scenes  of  yester  evening  with  this.  Al- 


1 50  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

ready,  so  much  of  my  individuality  had  slipped  away  from 
me  that  I  began  to  see  with  Bessie's  eyes. 

She  would  find  my  stepmother  staid  and  crabbed ;  my 
sister  hoydenish  ;  my  brother  an  unscrupulous  tease ;  my 
father  stern.  I  painted  her  fear,  her  recoil,  her  aversion, 
her  repentance  that  she  had  yielded  to  my  passionate  prayer 
and  resigned  maiden  freedom — her  one  accomplishment  of 
"being  happy  all  day  long,"  for  an  abode  and  associates  so 
uncongenial — and  I  bewailed  the  day  of  my  birth. 

Then,  I  vowed  to  make,  by  my  own  might,  a  home  fit  for 
her  occupancy ;  to  forswear  kindred,  and  repudiate  natural 
affection,  rather  than  offend  her  taste,  or  chill  her  heart.  I 
had  faith  in  the  omnipotence  of  love  and  energy  and  respec- 
table talents ;  and  when  I  took  this  survey  of  the  situation 
I  was  ready  to  cry  out  with  delight  that  I  had  been  born  unto 
so  goodly  a  heritage ;  opened  the  lids  of  the  corpulent  book 
and  "boned  down" — in  college  classical — to  my  economical 
politics.  I  was  working  for  Bessie,  and  kept  it  up  until  two 
o'clock  A.M. 

Hamlet  presented  himself  in  Ophelia's  sewing-room — 

"  his  stockings  fouled, 
Ungartered,  and  down-gyved  to  his  ankle," 

and  was  adjudged  by  the  owlish  wiseacre  Polonious  to  be 
"  mad  for  her  love."  Benedick  sneered  bitterly  at  the  de- 
sertion of  his  whilom  companion-in-arms  who  since  he  had 
been  smitten  by  Hero,  would  "  lie  ten  nights  awake,  carving 
the  fashion  of  a  new  doublet."  Claudio,  in  unwitting  retal- 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  151 

iation,  when  describing  the  signs  of  Benedick's  passion  for 
Beatrice,  says,  "he  brushes  his  hat  o'  mornings." 

My  love  took  the  tidy  turn.  I  discovered,  with  concern, 
that  my  everyday  coat  was  getting  shiny  about  the  elbows, 
and  that  the  binding  was  frayed.  My  stepmother  looked 
well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  but  I  decided  that  her 
laundress  should  be  taken  to  task  for  criminal  neglect  of  my 
shirt-fronts.  The  tie  of  the  cravat  was  the  crucial  test  of 
patience  and  resolve  to  appear  well  in  the  beloved  eye,  or 
perish  in  the  struggle.  I  had  laughed  at  the  tale  of  Beau 
BrummeU's  tableful  of  "failures."  If  he  were  in  love  it  was 
explicable  and  pardonable.  My  hat,  like  Benedick's,  suf- 
fered long.  The  malady  would  seem,  with  me,  to  have  struck 
upwards  as  determinedly  as  Hamlet's  love-fit  settled  in  his 
calves.  I  had  discarded  the  student's  cap  in  November,  my 
stepmother  objecting  to  it  as  "rakish."  1  was  not  fond  of 
my  stepmother,  but  I  tried,  as  a  general  principle,  to  keep 
on  the  right  side  of  her.  To  please  her,  I  mounted  a  beaver, 
and  brushed  it  occasionally.  On  the  day  after  my  introduc- 
tion to  Elysium — idest,  the  Barnes's  back  parlor — I  took  it  to 
the  hatter's  to  be  blocked  over  and  ironed.  After  which  de- 
ceitful renovation,  I  was  continually  seeking  out  stray  nooks 
and  chances  where  and  when  I  could  pull  it  off  and  polish  it 
with  my  coat-sleeves,  or  blow  the  dust  from  the  sleek  cylin- 
der, or  assure  myself,  by  ocular  demonstration,  that  it  needed 
no  such  affectionate  attention.  I  ran  in  debt  for  gloves,  and 
paid  officious  boot-blacks  on  hotel -steps,  and  at  miry  cross- 
ings, for  needless  "shines."  The  major  portion  of  my 


152  My  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

pocket-money  went  for  flowers  and  swindling  baskets  of  im- 
ported fruit,  gotten  up  regardless  of  expense  at  the  top,  and 
with  equal  disregard  of  honesty  at  the  bottom.  But  as  I 
dared  not  disturb  the  fragrant  mosaic  of  the  orange-red  and 
whity-green  surface,  I  was  none  the  wiser,  and  much  the 
poorer.  Bessie  "could  live  on  fruit,"  and  "doted  upon 
flowers."  What  man  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom,  and  a  half- 
dollar  in  his  pocket,  would  let  her  want  for  either  ? 

I  had  known  her  nine  days — nine  incomparable  days, 
for  I  had  not  missed  seeing  her  in  one  of  them.  Sunday  was 
the  reddest  letter  of  the  three-times-three.  She  had  suffered 
my  attendance  to  and  from  church  in  the  forenoon.  I  had 
found  the  places  in  her  prayer-book,  not  without  some  pains, 
not  having  been  drilled  in  Episcopal  forms  ;  had  stood,  sat 
and  kneeled  beside  her  in  the  pew,  tenanted  only  by  our- 
selves. Papa  and  Mamma  Barnes  were  not  noted  church- 
goers. Her  silken  skirt  overflowed  my  ankles  ;  the  fringe  of 
her  velvet  sleeve  lay  upon  my  arm,  during  the  sermon,  and 
her  loosened  fur  boa  slid  down,  down  noiselessly,  until  it 
rested  on  my  knee.  A  sluggish-blooded  man  behind  us  com- 
plained, after  service,  that  the  "church  was  as  cold  as  a 
barn."  I  could  have  challenged  him  on  behalf  of  the 
sexton,  who  had  transferred  a  Floridian  climate  to  latitude 
40°. 

"  I  take  a  famous  nap  on  Sabbath  afternoons,"  said  the  can- 
did Peri,  at  our  morning  parting.  "  But  if  you  will  promise 
positively,  that  you  will  be  in  after  supper,  say  about  half- 
past  eight,  I  will  be  at  home  to  nobody  else." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  153 

"  What  stress  of  weather,  battle,  murder,  and  sudden 
death,  could  keep  me  away  after  that  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Fie  !  "  But  she  did  not  frown  as  if  she  meant  it.  "  You 
should  not  quote  scripture  upon  light  occasions." 

I  could  not  correct  her,  when  she  tripped — in  another  it 
would  have  been  blundered — in  such  trifles.  Would  statistical 
and  literal  starch  make  her  more  enchanting  ? 

I  said  merely,  "  This  is  a  matter  of  moment  and  weight," 
and  restored  the  prayer-book  she  had  let  me  carry  all  the 
way  to  and  from  the  sanctuary. 

About  four  o'clock,  my  Sunday  dinner  having  been  hearty 
and  my  attempted  afternoon  nap  a  failure,  I  strolled  around — 
a  matter  of  four  furlongs  or  so — to  satisfy  myself  that  all  was 
right  with  Beauty's  Bower.  I  did  an  immense  deal  of  gratui- 
tous police-duty  that  winter,  and  was  quietly  amused  when  I 
met  a  licensed  guardian  of  the  public  peace  sauntering 
through  my  beat,  at  the  thought  of  how  much  shoe-leather 
and  time  he  was  wasting. 

The  house  was  all  right — except  that  upon  the  steps 
stood  a  young  man.  I  inventoried  him  in  the  twinkling  of  a 
jealous  eye.  Of  good  height,  passable  features  and  easy  car- 
riage ;  faultless  in  each  particular  of  his  fashionable  apparel, 
he  glanced  with  a  kind  of  keen  superciliousness  at  me, 
flicked  his  boot  with  his  cane,  and  drummed  with  his  toe 
upon  the  stone  step  while  awaiting  the  answer  to  his  ring. 
The  sight  of  him  thus  and  there  was  a  personal  grievance, 
yet  there  was  a  glimmer  of  sardonic  mirth  in  my  visage  as  I 
contemplated  his  show  of  impatience  and  foresaw  the  disap- 
7* 


1 54  My  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

pointment  which  was  his  inevritable  portion.  Bessie  was  in- 
visible, until  supper-time ;  afterward  she  would  be  at  home 
to  but  one  person,  and  that  not  this  arrogant  dandy.  I 
walked  slowly  onward  purposely  and  maliciously.  I  was 
curious  to  contrast  his  crest-fallen  bearing  with  the  confi- 
dent expectation  that  had  nettled  me.  The  concussion  of  a 
closing  door,  familiar  to  me  as  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  which 
hung  beside  it,  awoke  the  Sabbath  echoes  that  slept  on  other 
days  in  the  much  frequented  street.  The  foiled  stranger  did 
not  overtake  me,  after  receiving  his  quietus,  and  I  looked 
over  my  shoulder  to  see  if  he  had  gone  down  the  street 
instead. 

He  had  vanished.  There  was  no  more  trace  of  him  than 
if  he  had  sunk  into  the  bowels  of  the  coal-vault  and  the  flag- 
stones closed  above  his  head.  I  wheeled  and  stood  stock 
still,  dumb,  amazed,  enraged,  oblivious  of  surveillant 
"  pigeons."  The  block  was  a  long  one.  He  could  not 
have  gained  the  lower  corner,  unless  by  precipitate  flight, 
and  he  did  not  look  like  one  who  would  take  to  his  heels  in 
broad  daylight.  I  retraced  my  steps,  scrutinizing  every  brick 
and  board  of  the  house  in  passing.  Save  for  the  mysterious 
disappearance  of  the  would-be  caller,  all  was  as  before. 
The  parlor-shutters  were  fast  and  blank.  It  was  almost  a 
certainty  that  he  was  not  sitting  there  in  the  dark.  He 
dared  not  enter  the  back  room  uninvited  by  the  genius  of  the 
retreat.  If  I  could  have  improvised  an  excuse  I  would  have 
rung  the  bell,  and  ended  my  uncertainty  by  actual  proof  of 
sight  and  hearing.  Failing  this,  I  sought  to  console  myself 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  155 

with  the  theory  that  it  might  have  been  the  slamming  door 
of  the  next  house  which  I  had  heard,  he  having  mistaken  the 
number. 

But  I  had  no  more  stomach  for  wholesome  victuals  at 
supper-time  than  when  Ezra  had  animadverted  upon  my  lack 
of  "  peth."  The  apparition  of  the  foppish  interloper,  whom 
I  had  succeeded  in  hating  virulently  by  this  time,  haunted 
me.  The  clanging  echo  of  the  too-hospitable  door  reverbe- 
rated through  my  head  like  a  knell.  I  could  not  hope  to  lay 
the  dread  by  any  means  short  of  an  explicit  explanation  with 
the  "frankest  girl  in  the  universe." 

She  had  never  looked  lovelier  or  been  more  engaging  in 
demeanor  than  when  I  entered  her  sanctum,  that  evening. 
Ensconced  in  the  leaf-brown  satin  nest,  she  held  out  her 
hand,  without  rising,  with  the  sweetest  of  her  ever-sweet 
smiles. 

"  Five  minutes  late  !  In  another  five,  my  '  not-at-home ' 
to  other  people  would  have  been  outlawed.  You  have  just 
saved  your  distance." 

"I  thought  I  might  have  mistaken  my  orders,"  I  replied. 
"  I  saw  a  gentleman  upon  the  front  steps  this  afternoon  whose 
countenance  seemed  to  say  that  you  were  at  home  to  him, 
at  least." 

"  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  stamp  of  masculine  conceit 
upon  his  face,  or  any  other — "  with  a  curl  of  the  red  lip. 
*'  But  I  would  have  seen  him  had  I  been  aware  that  he  was 
here.  It  was  mamma's  pet  nephew,  Nat  Wallace.  She  had 
him  all  to  herself  for  an  hour.  I  scolded  her  well  for  not 


156  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

awaking  me.  I  used  to  love  Nat  dearly  when  we  were  at 
school  together.  He  lives  in  Philadelphia,  now,  and  we 
seldom  meet." 

I  was  miserably  mortified,  so  pitiful  did  my  jealousy  appear 
in  the  light  of  this  simple  solution  of  the  mystery  I  had  made 
for  myself, — so  fully  had  I  exposed  it  by  my  untimely  investi- 
gation of  the  very  innocent  circumstance  of  a  nephew  calling 
upon  his  aunt  on  Sabbath  afternoon. 

I  would  have  essayed  an  apology,  but  Bessie  mercifully 
led  the  talk  to  some  other  theme — mercy  for  which  my  soul 
blessed  her  as  the  most  magnanimous  of  created  intelligences. 


CHAPTER  X. 

f 

ROBIN    ADAIR. 

HAD  known  Bessie  nine  days,  as  I  have  said, 
and  my  passion  was  at  flood-tide,  when  a 
great  ball  was  given  by  one  of  her  acquain- 
tances which  she  was  to  attend.     Since  I  was 
not  invited,  I  found  myself  with  a  spare  evening  on 
my  hands  and  resolved  to  devote  it  to  my  friends 
the  Darlings. 

My  foot  was  upon  the  steps  of  the  house  before  I 
recollected  that  I  had  not  seen  one  of  the  family 
since  I  left  Aunt  Evy's  room  in  Bessie  Barnes's  com- 
pany. I  was  slightly  abashed,  and  more  surprised  at  my 
apparent  remissness.  I  hoped  they  would  not  "make  a 
time  "  about  it.  Aunt  Evy  ought  to  deal  gently  with  me,  for, 
knowing  Bessie  as  she  did,  she  must  suspect  the  inevitable 
result  of  our  introduction  and  subsequent  interview.  I  rang 
the  bell  with  wonted  boldness,  having  done  nothing  whereof 
I  should  be  ashamed.  Before  it  had  ceased  to  tinkle,  the 
door  flew  back  and  Ailsie  sprang  into  my  arms  with  an  aban- 
don of  affection  she  had  never  exhibited  to  me  before. 

"I  said  it  was  your  ring  !  "  she  cried,  a  dry  sob  breaking 
her  articulation.     "We  have  been  so  unhappy  about  you  ! 


158  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

I  was  sure  you  were  sick  again,  and  wouldn't  let  us  know. 
Then,  papa  met  your  father  yesterday,  and  he  said  you  were 
well.  What  has  been  the  matter  ?  Come  right  up  to  Aunt 
Evy's  room.  She  told  me  to  bring  you." 

"  I  have  been  very  much  engaged,  Ailsie,  dear.  Almost 
too  busy  to  eat  or  sleep." 

I  did  not  blush  at  the  equivocation,  for  I  recalled  the 
neglected  meals  and  sleepless  midnights  of  the  past  week. 

"You  shouldn't  work  so  hard.  It  isn't  wholesome!" 
chided  my  monitress,  clinging  to  my  hand  all  the  way  up 
stairs.  "Here  he  is,  Aunt  Evy  !  He  has  been  studying  him- 
self to  death  again.  He'll  have  softening-on-the-brain,  if  he 
isn't  careful." 

Aunt  Evy's  pale  face  was  lighted  up  by  a  smile  that  was 
motherly  in  its  goodness.  Her  hand-clasp  bespoke  undimin- 
ished  regard.  I  began  to  blame  myself  in  earnest  that  even 
an  all-engrossing  love  had  beguiled  me  into  passing  forget- 
fulness  of  what  I  owed  to  her. 

Ailsie  kept  close  to  me,  as  if  fearful  of  losing  me  again. 
The  easiest  arm-chair  was  drawn  up  for  me  to  Aunt  Evy's 
side,  and  the  small  lady  accepted  her  place  upon  my  knee, 
sighing  thankfully  in  dropping  her  head  to  my  shoulder. 
Now  and  then,  while  I  talked  with  her  aunt,  I  felt  her 
frame  heave  with  the  long  sob  I  had  remarked  in  my 
welcome — almost  soundless,  but  deep-drawn  and  slow — the 
ground-swell  of  spent  excitement.  At  the  fourth  repetition 
I  tightened  my  arm  about  her  and  pressed  my  lips  silently 
to  her  cheek.  Both  arms  went  around  my  neck,  her  face 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  159 

was  hidden  for  a  second  upon  my  breast ;  then  she  released 
herself  from  my  embrace  and  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  I  must  bespeak  your  forbearance  for  her,"  said  Aunt 
Evy,  her  smile  more  troubled  than  I  could  understand. 
"  She  is  not  quite  mistress  of  herself  to-night.  You  forgot  to 
take  leave  of  her  the  last  time  you  were  here.  She  would 
not  listen  when  I  remarked  upon  and  tried  to  explain  the 
omission.  '  It's  all  right ! '  she  said,  proudly  ;  'course  he 
didn't  mean  anything!  You  needn't  tell  me  that!  I'm 
'stonished  at  you,  for  noticing  such  a  little  thing,  Aunt  Evy  ! 
It's  'most  as  bad  as  backbiting ! '  and  off  she  marched,  her 
head  as  high  as  a  duchess's.  But  she  cried  herself  to  sleep 
that  night.  Her  mother  found  her  sleeping  when  she  looked 
in  upon  her  before  retiring,  the  tears  on  her  face  and  a  very 
wet  pillow  telling  of  the  flood  she  had  shed  while  awake. 
I  have  been  made  really  uneasy  by  her  solicitude  concern- 
ing you,  for  some  days  past.  She  has  been  flighty,  restless, 
without  appetite,  or  ability  to  apply  herself  to  any  occupa- 
tion or  diversion.  Each  evening  she  has  taken  her  stand  at 
my  window,  there,  and  watched  along  the  street  by  which 
you  usually  come,  without  saying  whom  she  was  expecting, 
or  expressing  in  words  her  disappointment  when  you  did 
not  appear.  To-night,  she  had  just  left  her  tower  of  obser- 
vation when  the  bell  rang,  and  with  a  cry  of  delight  she 
darted  down-stairs.  She  was  always  sensitive  and  idealistic, 
with,  although  a  healthy  child,  a  delicate  nervous  organiza- 
tion. But  since  the  fearful  storm,  last  summer,  this  delicacy 
has  been  yet  more  obvious.  I  dread  lest  some  untoward 


160  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

event  may  intensify  it  into  disease.  This  world  of  changes 
and  shocks  is  a  troublous  place  for  her — my  bonny  brown 
bird ! " 

"  I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  tell  you  that  I  have  been 
the  cause  of  pain  and  disappointment  to  her,"  I  said, 
earnestly.  "  Had  I  imagined  that  the  extraordinary  press — 
the  unusual  engagements — that  have  absorbed  me  of  late, 
to  the  exclusion  of  so  much  that  would  have  given  me 
pleasure — " 

I  was  getting  into  smoother  water,  yet  Aunt  Evy  checked 
me: 

"  Not  a  breath  of  apology,  please  !  This  is  one  of  your 
homes,  Barry :  come  when  and  how  you  will,  and  your 
welcome  is  sure.  We  have  no  right,  and  certainly  no 
disposition  to  be  censorious  or  exacting.  Least  of  all,  will 
Ailsie  hear  one  word  of  blame  of  her  Bayard,  or  distrust  his 
affection." 

"  Her  Bayard."  It  was  a  grand  and  ennobling  thing  for  a 
man  to  love  as  I  loved  Bessie.  That  I  was  capable  of 
doing  it  was  an  indirect  evidence  of  something  grand  and 
worthy  in  my  nature.  But  the  name  of  the  spotless  cheva- 
lier, sans  peur  et  sans  reproche,  stung  me  with  the  smart  of 
unmerited  praise. 

I  felt  and  I  said  that  I  was  not  good  enough  to  be  Ailsie' s 
hero.  I  said,  furthermore,  and  felt  it  no  less,  that  it  was  a 
compliment  the  mediaeval  knight  himself  might  have  coveted 
to  hold  so  high  a  place  in  her  pure  and  loyal  heart.  That  it 
ought  to  make  me  better,  more  earnest  in  seeking  that  which 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  161 

was  true  and  noble,  more  prompt  to  repel  what  was  bad. 
Saying  it,  my  heart  warmed  into  softness  and  my  voice  was 
not  so  firm  as  I  would  have  had  it.  As  to  the  shock  of  last 
summer,  I  was  grieved  to  hear  that  it  had  left  lasting  traces, 
and  loth  to  credit  the  possibility  of  enduring  harm  to  a 
robust  merry-hearted  child  of  her  age. 

"  And  by  that  token,  she  is  seven  years  old,  this  very 
day ! "  I  interrupted  myself  to  exclaim.  "  Can  this  be 
Christmas  Eve  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy  ! "  said  Aunt  Evy,  much  amused.  "  Where 
have  your  wits  been  moss-gathering,  that  you  are  so  far  be- 
hind the  times  ?  One  would  think  you  had  been  buried 
alive  for  the  last  ten  days." 

I  colored,  furiously  ;  got  up  and  turned  my  back  to  the 
light  to  conceal  my  confusion. 

"  Christmas  Eve  !  "  1  repeated  stupidly.  "  It  is  incredi- 
ble !  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  we  made  any  account  of 
Christmas  at  our  house.  We  do  have  mince-pie  and  plum- 
pudding  on  the  25th  of  December,  but  that  is  about  all  that 
distinguishes  it  from  other  days.  I  knew  the  holidays  were 
near,  to  be  sure.  As  to  there  being  no  lectures  to-morrow, 
it  i!>  Saturday,  you  know.  I  never  thought  of  any  other 
reason  for  the  omission.  What  a  dunce  I  am  ! " 

"  I  verily  believe  you  have  been  living  in  the  clouds,"  re- 
joined Aunt  Evy,  still  laughing.  "  Where  were  your  eyes 
that  you  didn't  see  "CHRISTMAS"  stamped  in  green-and- 
gold,  all  over  the  shop-windows  ?  " 

I  was  mute,  my  head  hanging  upon  my   chest   like   any 


l62  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

other  detected  school-boy.  I  had  been  a  blind  simpleton, 
dazed  and  daft  by  the  survey  of  the  glittering  jewel  of  my 
own  supreme  happiness,  and  could  not  screw  my  courage  up 
to  confess  to  this  gentlest  of  confidantes  what  was  the  glam- 
our that  had  held  eyes,  ears  and  senses  in  bondage.  Noth- 
ing else  hurt  me  as  did  the  knowledge  that  this  was  my  little 
love's  birthday,  and  that  I  had  come  to  her  empty-handed. 
Worst  of  all,  I  had  not  a  penny  with  which  to  purchase  birth- 
day, or  Christmas  gift.  My  last  five-dollar  bill  had  gone  for 
Bessie's  ball-room  bouquet.  And  holiday  presents  were  so 
much  to  a  child  ! 

Aunt  Evy  divined  my  feelings  to  some  extent. 

"You  are  troubled  because  you  have  no  keepsake  for 
Alsie,"  she  said  reassuringly.  "She  expects  nothing  from 
you,  having  been  bountifully  remembered  in  her  home,  and 
to-morrow  will  bring  a  surfeit  of  gifts.  If  you  can  spare 
half-an-hour,  during  the  day,  for  a  walk  with  her,  she  will  en- 
joy it  more  than  bon-bons  or  jewelry.  Now,  call  her  back, 
and  when  she  comes,  take  no  notice  of  red  or  down-dropped 
eyes." 

Ailsie  was  in  her  bed-room,  said  Robbie's  nurse,  whom  I 
met  in  the  hall,  and  I  dispatched  her  in  quest  of  the  straying 
bird.  She  answered  the  summons  without  suspicious  delay, 
carrying  her  head  high,  as  was  her  way  when  there  was  need 
for  self-control.  I  could  imagine  how  she  had  looked  when 
her  aunt  presumed  to  apologize  for  my  forgetfulness  of  her, 
and  she  "  marched  off  with  the  air  of  a  duchess."  She  was 
pale,  to-night,  and  my  heart  smote  me  remorsefully.  I  am 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  163 

sure  that  then  the  thought  was  for  the  first  time  borne  in 
upon  me — "  Shall  I  ever  win  love  so  fervent  and  entire, 
from  another  ?" 

Heaven  knows  the  query  was  often  enough  with  me  in 
the  days  and  years  that  followed. 

I  knelt  to  receive  my  queen,  kissed  her  hands,  one  after 
the  other,  homage  more  real  than  simulated. 

"  I  have  been  a  thundering  blockhead,  Ailsie  !  You 
wouldn't  believe  it,  but  I  never  knew  that  this  was  Christ- 
mas Eve  until  Aunt  Evy  told  me.  There  are  no  children 
in  our  house  to  keep  Christinas  for.  So  I  never  dreamed  it 
was  so  near.  If  I  had  recollected  Christmas  Eve  I  couldn't 
have  forgotten  that  it  was  your  birthday." 

I  was  on  one  knee  in  the  middle  of  the  room — the  place 
and  attitude  in  which  Bessie  had  discovered  me.  It  salves 
my  wounded  self-respect  to  reflect  that  the  coincidence  did 
not  occur  to  me,  at  the  moment.  Ailsie  laid  her  arm  over 
my  shoulder,  leaving  one  hand  in  mine.  Her  beautiful  eyes 
were  brimming  with  pity. 

"Forgot  Christmas!"  she  said.  "You  never  keep 
Christmas  at  your  house  ?  I  did  not  know  such  a  thing  ever 
happened  !  I  am  afraid  it  is  very  wicked.  I  should  have 
thought  your  prayers  would  have  put  you  in  mind.  Why  it 
is  Our  Saviour's  birthday  !  Aren't  you  dreadfully  unhappy 
about  it  ?  " 

"  I  am,  Ailsie  !     Fairly  wretched ! " 

Her  arm  dropped  from  my  neck.     She  drew  away  from  me. 

"  I  was  not  joking  !  " 


1 64  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

The  sad  dignity  of  manner  and  tone  rebuked  me  into  true 
penitence. 

"  Don't  be  vexed !  "  I  entreated.  "  I  really  feel  very 
badly  about  my  stupidity.  And  I  shall  believe  that  you 
think  me  a  wicked  fellow,  past  caring  for,  if  you  don't  prom- 
ise, before  I  rise  from  my  knees,  to  take  a  long  walk  with  me 
on  the  blessed  Christmas  Day.  You  shall  show  me  how  to 
keep  it." 

Pacified  and  delighted,  she  assented,  and  condescended  to 
be  lured  back  to  her  perch,  which  she  occupied  all  the  time 
I  stayed,  her  bright,  brown  head  now  turned  to  one  side, 
now  to  the  other,  hearkening,  questioning,  and  replying  with 
elfin  grace  and  more  than  elfin  wit.  She  did  not  offer  to 
exhibit  her  birthday  gifts — a  tactful  omission  I  comprehended 
and  appreciated.  I  had  brought  her  nothing,  and  she  would 
not  remind  me  that  others  had  been  more  loving,  or  thought- 
ful of  her  happiness. 

*'  So  my  little  wife  is  seven  years  old ! "  I  said,  after 
awhile,  fitting  the  rounded  chin  into  my  hollowed  palm. 
"  Such  a  great  age,  and  such  a  great  girl ! " 

She  blushed  and  laughed. 

"  It  pleases  me  to  be  getting  so  old,  for  there  is  some 
chance  of  my  catching  up  with  you.  I  wish  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  your  standing  still  and  waiting  for  me,  but  I  sup- 
pose  that's  out  of  the  question." 

"  I'll  engage  not  to  grow  any  taller.  That  will  help  a 
liltie,  won't  it  ?  And  if  you  wish  it,  I'll  not  tell  people 
exactly  what  my  age  is,  even  now." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  165 

"  I  don't  care  what  people  say  !"  scornfully.  "  I  used  to, 
when  I  was  young  and  foolish.  I've  got  past  all  that.  The 
trouble  about  your  being  so  awfully  old  is  that  I'm  afraid 
you'll  get  to  thinking  of  me  as  a  wee  snip  of  a  child,  that 
don't  know  anything.  Then  you'll  stop  loving  me.  Or,  if 
you  do  care  for  me,  you  may  be  ashamed  of  me  when  very 
clever  persons  are  by.  That  would  be  very  bad." 

"  It  can  never  happen,  Ailsie.  You  will  be  the  cleverest 
person  of  my  acquaintance  when  you  are  grown." 

Cheered,  but  not  sanguine,  she  paused  to  admit  the  hope, 
then  continued  :  "  I  wish  I  could  believe  so  !  I  do  try  to 
learn.  But  this  is  such  a  big  world.  It  scares  me  to  see 
how  many  books  have  been  made,  and  they  are  all  the  time 
making  more.  I  don't  see  where  I  am  going  to  find  time  to 
study  them  all.  You  are  very  smart.  Papa  says  you  are 
real  talentable.  You  will  keep  on  getting  wiser.  And  I  am 
so  innorant !  " 

She  leaned  back  on  my  arm,  with  a  sigh  of  prospective 
exhaustion. 

"  Don't  be  uneasy,  Chippy  !  "  said  Aunt  Evy.  "  You 
have  plenty  of  time  before  you,  and  nobody  dreams  of  read- 
ing all  or  half  the  books  that  are  made.  As  to  Mr.  Barry, 
you'll  pass  him  before  you  are  seventeen.  It  will  be  his 
turn  then  to  sigh  over  his  ignorance.  I'll  see  to  it  that  you 
are  wise  enough  for  him — or  any  other  man." 

Ailsie  held  up  her  face,  in  form,  for  the  seven  kisses  due 
in  honor  of  the  anniversary,  when  her  bedtime  arrived ;  and 
I  imprinted  them  lovingly,  reverently — one  upon  her  fore- 


1 66  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

head,  one  upon  each  of  the  lids  folding  in  the  marvellous 
eyes,  one  upon  each  cheek,  and  two  upon  her  mouth. 

"  She  grows  handsomer  every  day,"  I  said  to  her  aunt, 
when  we  were  left  to  ourselves.  "  Richer  in  all  gifts,  men- 
tal, spiritual,  physical.  GOD  bless  her  ! " 

I  was  in  earnest,  yet  my  thoughts  flew  suddenly  and  far 
from  her,  as  soon  as  I  reached  the  street.  Ten  o'clock 
struck  ere  I  had  walked  two  blocks.  I  had  not  looked  upon 
the  features  of  my  divinity  for  five  hours.  Five  ages  !  I 
accused  myself  of  lese  majeste  that  I  had  been  moderately 
content  out  of  her  presence.  She  had  not  scrupled  to  de- 
clare this  particular  ball  "  a  bore,"  and  to  profess  her  pref- 
erence for  a  quiet  home-evening. 

"  If  you  could  drop  in  ! "  was  the  graceful  addenda. 

That  her  unlikeness  to  other  girls  was  in  nothing  more 
manifest  than  in  her  noble  frankness,  was  a  postulate  I  never 
wearied  of  repeating  to  my  already  convinced  self.  I  be- 
lieved that  she  was  a  sacrifice  to  Society  on  this  particular 
night.  I  could  not  enjoy  a  ball  were  she  absent.  Why 
should  not  the  Robin  Adair  lament  be  chanted  by  her  heart, 
the  while  I  was  nowhere  visible  to  "  make  the  assembly 
shine  "  for  her  optics  ? 

I  was  so  far  left  to  myself  as  to  hum  air  and  words,  and 
to  be  measurably  consoled  thereby. 

"  What's  this  dull  town  to  me  ? 

Robin's  not  here. 
What's  here  I  wish  to  see  ? 

Robin  Adair  1 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  167 

Where's  all  the  joy  and  mirth 
Made  the  town  a  heaven  on  earth  ! 
Oh  !  they've  vanished  all  with  thee, 
Robin  Adair." 

A  drunken  fellow,  out-at-elbows,  stepping  high  and  care- 
fully along  the  level  pavement,  joined  in  the  tune  in  a 
wheezing  falsetto,  laughing  loudly  as  I  broke  off  in  disgust. 

Street-sentimentalities  have  their  inconveniences  and  in- 
congruities. I  was  not,  by  nature,  a  puppy,  nor  had  my 
home-life  tended  to  foster  the  germs  of  self-conceit  that  are 
not  wanting  in  the  composition  of  most  boys.  Looking 
back  dispassionately  to  this  delirious  period,  I  see  that  a 
man  must  needs  have  been  the  pink  of  humility  had  he 
been  doubtful  as  to  his  standing  in  the  affections  of  any  sin- 
cere woman  who  had  given  him  such  encouragement  as  had 
fed  my  hopes.  And  be  it  remembered  that  Bessie's  forte 
was  candor.  My  experience  of  college  "  quizzing  "  might, 
indeed,  have  excited  a  suspicion  that  she  was  trailing  me 
on  for  her  amusement  and  my  final  discomfiture.  Had  her 
gracious  words  and  telling  glances  been  pure  acting,  I  must 
have  distrusted  her  at  some  period  of  our  intimacy.  With 
the  memory  of  the  catastrophe  strong  upon  me,  I  yet  affirm 
that  her  boasted  sincerity  was  not  deliberate  hypocrisy. 
She  really  enjoyed  my  devotion.  She  could  not  exist  with- 
out somebody's  homage,  and  that  somebody  must  be  a  man. 
I  have  seen  other  women,  some  of  whom  concealed  it  better 
and  some  worse  than  she,  with  whom  the  desire  to  fasci- 
nate and  entangle  every  person  of  the  other  sex  who 


1 68  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

approached  them,  was  innate  and  a  greed.  I  have  seen  a 
cat  play  with  a  mouse  when  she  was  not  hungry,  precisely 
as  if  her  design  were  to  "tender"  him  for  her  dinner,  and 
let  him  go,  after  all. 

I  had  never  said,  "  Will  you  marry  me  so  soon  as  I  shall 
provide  the  means  for  the  transatlantic  trip,  and  the  erection 
of  a  neat  brick  house  in  a  good  neighborhood,  with  a  wing 
for  the  home-office  ?  " 

But  we  had  talked  openly  of  love  in  all  its  phrases, 
moods  and  tenses;  of  love's  predicates,  associate  phrases 
and  modifiers,  and  alluded  so  boldly  to  our  mutual  capacity 
for  feeling  and  enjoying  all  these  that  I  should  have  rated 
myself  as  the  basest  of  triflers  could  I  have  admitted  the 
remotest  chance  of  my  leaving  the  binding  question  unspo- 
ken at  the  last.  It  was  much  for  me  to  feel  on  this  Christ- 
mas Eve  that  one  of  life's  great  prizes  was  won;  that  my 
heart  was  moored  for  all  time.  No  more  hungering  and 
thirsting  for  the  share  of  love  the  kind  Father  must  have 
ordained  as  my  portion  when  He  framed  my  capacity  for 
happiness  and  for  suffering  through  the  affections.  No  more 
trivial  and  baseless  speculations  as  to  the  shape  in  which  my 
fate  would  appear. 

Is  passion  in  the  early  and  violent  stages  invariably  puerile  ? 

"  I  am  in  the  biggest  glee  I  ever  felt !  "  said  a  youth  once, 
meeting  me  on  the  street.  "  My  girl  has  just  said  '  Yes.' 
Hurrah  for  our  side  !"  And  he  threw  up  his  hat  ten  feet  in 
the  air,  catching  it  as  it  came  down. 

I  could  have  laughed,  danced,  sung  in  my  "  glee,"  while 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  169 

revolving  the  above  thoughts  in  my  mind.  If  I  did  not 
shout,  "  Hurrah  for  my  side  ! "  I  felt  it.  Was  it  moreover 
because  I  was  a  boy  in  years  and  experience  that  I  was  tor- 
mented by  an  incessant  propensity  to  ascertain  for  myself  that 
my  treasure  was  a  verity  and  safe,  as  an  urchin  takes  out  his 
new  four-blader  twenty  times  an  hour,  only  to  turn  it  over, 
pull  out  and  polish  and  shut  the  blades  and  put  it  back 
into  his  pocket,  to  burn  there  into  intolerableness  in  less  than 
five  minutes  ? 


CHAPTER  XI. 

(FOOL'S)   PARADISE   LOST. 

COULD  not  have  slept  a  wink  that  night 
without  going  ten  blocks  out  of  my  way  to 
see  the  outside  of  the  house  that  would  con- 
tain my  Koh-i-noor  until  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

I  knew  the  street  and  the  number,  and  the  illumi- 
nated windows  guided  me  directly  to  the  hospitable 
mansion.  It  was  spacious  and  built  upon  a  corner, 
with  a  larger  yard  on  two  sides  of  it  than  most  city 
houses  can  boast.  On  the  cross-street  was  a  long 
veranda,  draped,  in  the  season,  with  an  almost  impervious 
curtain  of  vines.  The  intertwined  branches,  bare  of  leaves, 
wove  a  stout  network  from  pillar  to  pillar,  through  the  inter- 
stices of  which  I  espied  forms  passing  between  me  and  the 
French  casements.  The  side  street  was  in  friendly  obscu- 
rity, the  iron  railing  of  the  yard  low.  The  floor  of  the  veran- 
da was  not  six  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ground.  I  put  my 
hand  on  the  fence,  cleared  it  at  a  spring,  and  stood  in  friend- 
lier shadow  directly  beneath  the  balcony,  within  arm's  length 
of  those  walking  upon  it. 

I  had  placed  myself  in  a  questionable  situation  with  a  very 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 7  * 

faint  hope  of  securing  a  questionable  good.  Bessie  had  in- 
formed me  that  there  were  three  hundred  invitations  out  for 
the  ball.  I  had,  thus,  the  three-hundredth  part  of  a  chance 
of  beholding  her  waltzing  in  another  man's  arms,  and  of 
being  driven  to  desperation  by  the  odious  spectacle.  The 
casements  were  ajar,  and  there  poured  toward  and  over  me 
the  blended  murmur  of  sweet  girl-voices,  and  the  deeper 
tones  of  their  attendants,  with  soft  bursts  of  well-bred  laugh- 
ter, and  wafts  of  warm,  perfumed  air.  The  phantasmagoria 
inside  the  brilliant  saloon  was  bewilderingly  gay,  streams  of 
promenaders  flowing  down  on  one  side,  up  the  other,  like  a 
restless,  elliptical  rainbow.  I  looked  too  far  and  too  eagerly 
at  first.  I  discredited  the  evidence  of  my  eyes,  when,  hav- 
ing accustomed  themselves  to  the  glare  of  light,  they  showed 
me,  on  the  veranda,  so  near  me  I  could  hear  the  swish  of 
her  robe  against  the  railing,  her  whom  I  sought. 

The  night  was  raw,  although  not  very  cold,  and  the  dear 
imprudent  creature  wore  no  covering  on  her  head  beyond 
her  wealth  of  chestnut  hair  and  a  semi- wreath  of  roses  ;  none 
upon  her  shoulders  except  their  own  fairness,  which  I  do  not 
think  was  pearl-powder.  They  gleamed  in  the  gas-light  like 
marble.  The  ivory  curves  of  her  arm  were  white  as  her 
dress.  Her  head  was  bowed  to  meet  a  bouquet  she  lifted  to 
her  face. 

Which  bouquet  was  not  the  one  I  had  given  her  ! 

This  was  larger  and  composed  of  rarer  exotics  than  was 
that  for  which  my  last  "  V  "  had  gone."  There  was  never  a 
less  mercenary  lover  than  was  I,  at  that  epoch,  but  I  calcu- 


I72  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

lated,  with  a  sickening  pang,  that  this  collection  of  camellias, 
tea-roses,  violets,  etc.,  could  not  have  cost  less  than  four 
times  the  sum  I  had  impoverished  myself  to  expend — it 
would  seem  uselessly.  The  qualm  yielded  slightly  to  the 
hope  that  this  might  be  a  borrowed  treasure.  Young  girls 
had  a  way  of  exchanging  bouquets  at  parties,  for  an  hour  or 
so.  It  was  not  agreeable  to  reflect  that  careless  fingers  had 
toyed  with  that  into  whose  heart  I  had  breathed  vows  inau- 
dible, but  so  hot  they  ought  to  have  withered  the  frail 
blossoms  on  the  spot,  before  transferring  it  to  Queen  Bess's 
keeping.  But  better  thus,  than  to  believe  that  it  lay,  slighted 
and  forgotten,  on  her  dressing-table,  or  had  been  stuck  by 
her  prudent  maid  into  a  pitcher  or  wash-hand  basin. 

A  pink  japonica,  variegated  with  white — stemless,  after  the 
manner  of  florist's  japonicas — was  detached  by  her  handling, 
and  dropped,  unseen  by  her  or  her  escort,  upon  my  arm. 
I  caught  it,  pressed  it  to  my  lips,  and  believed  that  it  was  yet 
warm  with  her  breath.  The  omen  gave  me  strength  to  scan 
her  companion.  I  was  uncertain  whether  I  ought  to  feel 
better  or  worse  when  I  recognized  the  "  Nat "  who  had  paid 
a  dutiful  visit  to  his  Aunt  Barnes  last  Sabbath  afternoon, 
and  who  should  certainly  have  returned  to  Philadelphia  and 
his  own  business  five  days  since  ;  the  "Nat"  whom  Bessie 
was  sorry  to  miss ;  whom  she  had  loved  dearly  when  they 
were  at  school  together. 

"  Nat "  was  talking.  He  had  a  clear  voice  and  rather  an 
incisive  articulation,  and,  upon  the  honor  of  a  sad  and  sin- 
cere gentleman,  this  is  what  he  was  saying : 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 73 

"Your  college-boy  is  not  here  to-night?  Couldn't  you 
get  him  a  ticket?" 

A  white  shoulder  was  shnigged.  The  lovely  face  laughed 
up  from  the  costly  bouquet. 

"  A  dozen  for  the  asking  !  But  where' s  the  use  of  playing 
the  hypocrite  when  there's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  it  ?  The 
sweet  youth  would  have  been  in  my  way — in  his  own, 
and,  most  of  all,  in  yours.  You  ought  not  to  regret  his 
absence." 

"  Have  I  hinted  that  I  do  ?  Not  that  it  would  have  made 
much  difference  to  me.  I  don't  let  cubs  interfere  seriously 
with  my  personal  arrangements.  Why  do  you  have  him 
hanging  around  you,  all  the  time  he  is  out  of  school?  " 

"  You  would  prefer  for  me  to  wear  the  willow  while  your 
Highness  is  flirting  with  the  pretty  quakeresses  ?  You  may 
be  thankful  that  your  present  substitute  is  not  more  dange- 
rous. He  is  innocent  as  a  poodle,  and  infinitely  less 
troublesome." 

"  Chacun  a  son  gout!  I  shouldn't  have  suspected  you 
of  a  partiality  for  veal.  But,  as  you  say,  I  may  thank  my 
stars  that  it  is  no  worse.  There's  our  waltz  !  And  you  will 
take  cold  out  here  !  " 

He  handed  her  through  the  window,  and  they  were 
merged  in  the  throng. 

I  might  have  another  sight  of  them  if  I  waited  until  the 
circling  polka  brought  them  past  my  post  of  observation 
and  discovery.  I  did  not  stay. 

As  I  vaulted  over  the  fence  to  the  side-walk,  something 


1 74  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

happened  that  would  have  mortified  and  annoyed  me  when 
I  was  ten  minutes  younger. 

"  That's  a  rum  way  of  getting  off  a  gentleman's  premises  ! " 
said  a  gruff  voice,  simultaneously  with  the  grip  of  a  hand 
upon  my  arm.  "Should  call  it  taking  liberties  myself!  " 

I  confronted  the  policeman,  fiercely. 

"  I  am  no  thief!    I  went  there  to  see  a  friend  ! " 

The  word  must  have  hung  fire  suspiciously,  for  he  turned 
me  ungently  towards  the  nearest  lamp-post. 

"  No  objection  to  calling  of  him  out,  and  proving  identity, 
I  'spose?  Might  be  a  case  of  spoons,  you  see.  One  like  it 
up  town,  last  week.  Night  of  a  bang-out  party  in  the 
house.  You  may  be  one  of  the  gang,  for  all  I  know." 

The  conscientious  fellow  had  no  intention  of  being  face- 
tious, and  I  was  too  angrily  miserable  to  see  the  undesigned 
double  entendre,  but  the  time  came  when  I  could  laugh  over 
the  "  case  of  spoons,"  as  a  random  arrow  that  twanged 
straight  home. 

"  I  will  prove  my  own  identity  !  "  I  retorted.  "  Here  is  my 
card,  and  if  you  need  to  make  sure  that  it  is  mine,  you  can 
follow  me  home." 

The  rascal  held  up  the  morsel  of  pasteboard  to  the  street- 
lamp,  keeping  tight  hold  of  my  sleeve. 

"'Barry  M.  Haye,  No.  —West  izth  street!'"  he 
spelled  aloud. 

"  Off  my  beat  !  I'm  detailed  for  this  here  neighborhood, 
to-night,  to  keep  an  eye  on  likely  characters."  By  which  he 
did  not  mean  personable.  "Here,  Phipps  !" 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 7 5 

Another  policeman  crossed  the  street,  and  approached  us. 
A  knot  of  five  or  six  people  clustered  about  the  trio,  Police- 
man No.  i  retaining  his  clutch  of  my  sleeve. 

"  You  keep  this  here  gent  in  sight,"  he  ordered  his  fellow. 
"  If  he  tries  to  bolt,  spring  your  rattle  and  take  him  into 
custody  immediate.  Says  he  lives  at  —  West  12.  Here's 
his  label !  "  passing  over  his  card.  "  If  there  should  be  any- 
thing off  the  square  round  here  to-morrow,  it's  as  well  to 
know  where  to  find  him.  Move  on  spry  1" 

"  If  you  touch  me,  I  will  kill  you  ! "  I  said  under  my 
breath,  to  my  custodian  who  made  as  if  he  would  have  taken 
my  arm.  "  Follow  me  as  close  as  you  like." 

He  did  not  look  like  a  doughty  warrior,  and  changed 
countenance  at  the  threat.  He  was  not  ill-natured,  for  he 
might  have  committed  me  for  resistance  to  the  law. 

"  Tut,  tut ! "  he  said,  after  a  glance  at  my  livid  face.  "  I 
guess  this  is  a  mistake  all  'round.  I  ain't  one  for  interferin' 
with  young  gents'  larks.  You  step  on  pretty  lively,  and  I 
won't  bother  you." 

I  have  a  confused  idea  that  one  or  more  of  the  witnesses 
of  the  arrest  followed  us  for  some  squares,  but  I  cared  noth- 
ing about  it,  then.  When  I  took  my  key  out  at  my  father's 
door,  there  was  no  one  in  sight  except  policeman  No.  2, 
strolling  lazily  up  the  other  side  of  the  way.  He  raised  his 
finger  to  his  cap  d  la  militaire  in  resigning  the  charge  of  me, 
and  I  ought  to  have  been  thankful  that  I  had  got  well  out  of 
an  absurd  scrape. 

I  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  cherish  gratitude,  or  any 


1 76  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

other  Christian  grace.  The  parlor  door  was  ajar,  and  my 
sister  was  at  the  piano  ;  she  had  a  strong  voice,  was  vain  of 
it,  and  managed  it  effectively.  While  tearing  off  my  over- 
coat in  the  hall.  I  had  a  partial  view  of  the  tableau  at  the 
instrument.  A  rich  young  popinjay,  who  was  strenuously 
encouraged  by  step-parent  and  daughter,  bent  over  the 
songstress  and  her  eyes  were  elevated  to  meet  his,  as  she 
warbled  to  a  thrumping  accompaniment — 

"  Am  I  not  fondly  thine  own  ? 
Yes!^«/VES  !  YES  !! 
Am  I  not  fondly  thine  own  ! " 

"  As  if  a  crescendo  of  affirmatives  a  mile  long  could  con- 
vince a  sane  man  of  a  woman's  truth  ! "  growled  I,  savagely, 
mounting  to  my  third-story  back,  pursued  by  the  staccato 
refrain  that  rose  into  a  shriek  of  elvish  laughter  before  I 
muffled  it  by  slamming  my  door. 

Not  that  I  could  keep  it  out.  It  was  a  new  song,  pre- 
sented to  my  sister  that  evening  by  her  suitor,  and  when  she 
had  sung  it  all  through  by  herself  three  times,  he  joined  an 
execrable  base  to  the  strident  soprano.  Between  them  they 
persecuted  me  to  the  topmost  pitch  of  distraction.  I  turn 
cold  and  faint,  to  this  hour,  when  the  tortures  of  that  night 
recur  to  me. 

I  had  struck  a  light  mechanically  after  closing  the  door, 
dropped  into  a  chair,  and  buried  my  head  in  my  hands. 
Being  but  a  boy,  I  should  have  wept  had  the  anguish  been 
more  tolerable.  As  it  was,  bereft  of  hope,  and  without 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 7 7 

redress  ;  bruised  and  shaken  by  the  fall  from  bliss  to  perdi- 
tion, I  suffered  as  I  had  loved,  unconscionably.  There  is  a 
nerve  ajar  in  my  long-healed  heart  while  I  tell  it.  There 
was  no  well-meaning  comforter  near  to  bid  me  consider  that, 
whereas  I  had  lived  in  passable  peace  and  happiness  until 
within  a  fortnight  without  knowing  her  who  had  wrought  for 
me  such  rapture  and  such  woe,  common  sense  and  practical 
philosophy  held  out  a  fair  prospect  of  a  return  to  my  normal 
condition  when  the  paroxysm  of  disappointment  should  have 
passed  ;  that  it  was  opposed  to  reason  and  precedent  that  a 
passion  but  nine  days  old  should  make  a  total  wreck  of  a 
human  life.  I  would  have  pitched  Eliphaz  the  Temanite 
down-stairs,  and  sent  Bildad  and  Zophar  to  keep  him  com- 
pany at  the  bottom,  had  they — their  native  officiousness  still 
in  force — taken  advantage  of  the  privilege  accorded  to 
ghosts  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  presented  themselves  to  me, 
prepared  to  take  up  the  line  of  argumentative  disputation. 

I  was  mad,  through  and  through.  It  was  not  enough  that 
I  had  been  deceived.  I  had  been  also  duped.  There  is 
deception  into  which  a  man  can  fall  without  injury  to  whole- 
some self-esteem.  A  victim  is  not,  of  necessity,  a  simple- 
ton. I  had  been  this  woman's  puppet ;  made  to  grimace 
and  posture  and  jabber  at  her  whim,  and  it  was  her  humane 
whim  to  fool  me  to  the  top  of  my  bent,  for  her  convenience 
and  the  diversion  of  her  accepted  lover.  I  tore  at  my  hair 
with  hands  that  would  have  strangled  him,  if  I  could  have 
got  at  him.  Every  word  of  his  insolent  allusions  to  me  was 

re-distilled — concentrated  venom — by   viewless  devils    into 
8* 


1 78  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

my  ears.  I  was  a  college  boy,  a  cub,  and  a  calf.  She  had 
only  called  me  "a  sweet  youth,"  but  that  was  worse  than 
scathing  ridicule,  or  opprobrious  epithets.  I  ground  my 
teeth  together  until  I  could  hardly  part  the  jaws,  then  set 
myself  to  work  as  methodically  as  I  could,  to  recount  the 
favors  she  had  granted  me.  How,  without  shame,  and,  it 
now  appeared  systematically,  she  had  fed  the  flame  of  the 
devotion  I  had  not  been  able  to  conceal  from  the  hour  of 
our  first  meeting.  Raw  cub  though  1  was,  my  demonstrations 
of  the  adoration  in  which  my  soul  lay  prostrate  would  have 
been  moderate  and  decently  conventional,  if  she  had  let 
me  alone.  If  she  had  not  made  me  drunk  with  flattery,  and 
stolen  away  sense  and  prudence  with  every  glance  and 
word.  With  all  my  folly  I  was  not  a  coxcomb,  or  I  should 
have  thought  at  some  palpable  exhibition  of  her  partiality — 
"This  girl  is  throwing  herself  at  my  head  !"  Whereas,  in 
my  frankest  self-communings,  I  had  only  admitted  that,  with 
a  lofty  contempt  for  the  trammels  of  etiquette  and  coquetry, 
she  obeyed  the  movings  of  her  generous  heart  and  met  me — 
so  conscious  of  my  ill-desert — half-way. 

All  the  time  she  had  been  acting  a  farce — blaspheming 
the  holy  names  of  Love  and  Faith  and  Wedlock,  and  toying 
with  my  heart  as  I  had  seen  her,  one  evening,  toss  an  orange 
from  one  hand  to  the  other,  and  finally  let  it  roll  away  into  a 
corner,  with — "Don't  pick  it  up!  I  am  getting  tired  of 
oranges ! "  She  was  shrewd  by  nature  and  by  practice. 
Love  and  beaux  were  an  old  story  with  her.  I  could  not 
mislead  myself,  for  the  sake  of  poor  human  nature,  into  the 


M y  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 79 

hope  that  she  had  imagined  it  was  an  even  game — diamond 
cut  diamond — with  us.  I  had  been  honest  and  fatuous,  and 
she  knew  it  as  well  as  that  she  had  never  cared  the  ninth 
part  of  a  jot,  nor  the  ninety-ninth  part  of  a  tittle  for  me. 

All  this  time — whether  I  reasoned,  or  whether  I  raved — 
bursts  of  that  diabolical  ballad  were  pelting  the  panels  of  my 
door,  linking  themselves  with  a  sort  of  idiotic  sequence,  into 
my  frenzied  reverie,  sometimes  compelling  audible  answers. 

"Thou,  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee!"  insisted  the 
soprano,  until  I  was  fain  to  cry  out  what  a  drivelling  fool  any 
man  was  who  believed  that  he  knew  anything  of  the  kind, 
while  the  base  improvised  a  solo  repetition  of  the  already 
quadrupled  affirmative,  exasperating  me  into  a  "  No  !  no  ! 
no  !  "  that  was  nearly  a  yell. 

They  kept  at  it,  and,  in  the  midst  of  my  agony,  I  had  to 
hear  it : 

Piano  prelude.  First  verse  with  refrain  as  a  base  solo, 
then  as  a  duett. 

Interlude. 

Second  verse,  as  above. 

Interlude,  No.  2. 

And  so  on,  beginning  again,  and  going  through  the  same 
process  in  an  endless  chain  of  distraction  until  the  very  chair 
in  which  I  sat  vibrated  in  time,  to  the  "  ting-a-ty  !  tang-e-ty  !  " 
of  the  accompaniment,  and  something  in  the  back  of  my 
head,  probably  the  rear-guard  of  the  brain,  beat  like  the 
measured  thump  of  a  big  drum,  with  a  stunning  "  Bang ! " 
for  the  most  capital  "  Yes  !" 


1 80  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

Ludicrous  ?  Certainly — in  the  telling  and  in  the  hearing. 
In  the  endurance — misery,  dire  and  prolonged. 

About  half-past  eleven,  the  music  ceased.  Not  so  the 
echoes.  They  sounded  and  resounded  through  my  vigil 
until  I  could  scarcely  tell  which  was  imaginary,  which  actual 
distress.  The  night  became  colder.  There  was  no  fire  in 
my  room.  When,  at  three  o'clock,  I  tried  to  straighten  my- 
self up  and  make  ready  for  bed,  I  thought  for  a  moment  that 
I  was  frozen,  my  limbs  were  so  stiff  and  numb. 

An  old  saying  came  to  my  mind,  "  Caught  his  death  of 
cold." 

I  could  not  have  done  a  wiser  thing.  Life  was  a  more 
troublesome  complaint  than  dissolution. 

I  pondered  the  significance  of  that  word,  also,  rubbing  my 
be-thumbed  fingers  into  some  degree  of  usefulness.  It  was 
not  an  elegant  term,  but  it  suited  Life  well.  A  "com- 
plaint ! "  That  over  which  moan  was  made  and  plaint  was 
chanted, — a  complaint  from  the  first  cry  to  the  latest  groan. 

"  For  which  death  is  the  only  cure  !  "  I  muttered,  turning 
out  my  gas,  and  tumbling  into  bed  like  a  heathen,  without  a 
lisp,  or  thought  of  prayer — the  "prayers"  that  might  have 
"put  me  in  mind"  of  other  things  besides  whose  birthday 
Christmas  was. 

Perhaps  I  could  not  have  so  much  as  repeated,  "  Now  I 
lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  correctly,  if  I  had  tried.  For  the 
unceasing  echoes  were  contending  for  the  right  to  be  fondly 
my  own,  in  alternate  base  and  soprano — in  staccato  accom- 
paniment to  every  train  of  musing. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
"THE  NINE  COLUMN," 

HE  first  thing  I  heard  at  my  awakening  on 
Christmas  morning — even  despair  cannot  lie 
awake  all  night  at  one-and-twenty — was  the 
vibrant  tapping  of  hail  against  the  windows. 

I  could  not  have  been  quite  awake  when  I 
recognized  what  it  was,  for  I  whispered — "  No 
walk  with  Ailsie,  to-day  ! "  before  the  scenes  and 
horrors  of  last  night  laid  hold  of  memory  and 
soul. 

Then  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall  with  a  groan  which  was 
a  curse  upon  light  and  recollection.  I  did  not  try  to  fall 
asleep  again  or  so  much  as  shut  my  eyes.  Staring  blankly 
at  the  white  wall,  and  listening,  with  some  appreciation  of 
their  congruity  with  my  mood,  to  the  monotonous  patter 
upon  the  panes  and  the  sough  of  the  east  wind  between  the 
sashes,  I  lay  until  the  dressing-bell  informed  me  that  other 
people  were  up  and  hungry,  and  would  carp  and  interrogate 
if  I  did  not  betake  my  appetiteless  self  to  the  breakfast- 
table,  in  thirty  minutes. 

But  even  my  father  was  unpunctual  this  morning.     It  was 


1 82  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

a  legal  holiday  and  stormy.  Early  rising  in  the  circumstan- 
ces was  not  a  promising  speculation. 

I  encountered  my  step-mother  at  the  library  door  and  said, 
"  Good-morning,"  listlessly,  to  be  answered  tartly. 

There  was  nothing  negative  about  this  excellent  woman. 
One  always  "encountered"  or  ran  afoul  of  her.  Her 
speech  was  ever  crisp  and  spicy,  rather  over-seasoned  with 
salt.  Indeed,  her  whole  character  gave  one  the  impression 
of  something  that  was  a  trifle  too  well  corned.  It  had  all 
the  elements  of  durability  and  decided  flavor,  albeit 
somewhat  hard  and  tough  for  daily  food. 

"  I  am  glad  somebody  is  down  to  breakfast ! "  she  said, 
knotting  the  horizontal  lines  of  her  forehead,  "  I  suppose 
Christmas  is  considered  a  valid  excuse  for  laziness.  It 
wasn't  in  my  day  1" 

She  swept  on  to  the  dining-room,  like  a  gust  of  dryly 
bitter  wind. 

I  was  toasting  my  purpled  hands  at  the  library-grate,  the 
only  cheerful  thing  I  had  seen,  that  morning,  when  my  sister 
bounced  in. 

"  Isn't  this  the  shabbiest  thing  !  Good-morning,  Sir  Barry  1 
I  didn't  see  that  you  were  here.  I  thought  it  was  Aleck." 

"  Won't  I  do  as  well  ?  "  I  aroused  myself  to  say. 

I  was  very  lonely-hearted,  longing,  without  knowing  it, 
for  the  sympathy  of  a  true  woman.  Madge,  with  her  laugh- 
ing blue  eyes  and  red-gold  hair  and  strawberry  cheeks ;  who 
had  never  had  a  heart-ache  in  her  life  for  a  more  dignified 
reason  than  the  want  of  a  new  dress,  or  the  untimely  ruin  of 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  183 

a  love  of  a  hat ;  whose  highest  idea  of  sentiment  was  to  sing 
"  Am  I  not  fondly  thine  own  ? "  to  Sam  Murray  in  a 
handsomely-upholstered  parlor — he  in  his  best  coat  and  she 
arrayed  in  the  latest  mode  ; — Madge,  who  protested  that  she 
hated  boys,  and  treated  me  as  one  of  the  reviled  wretches, 
— was  yet  my  sister,  who  could  recollect  our  own  mother, 
and  must  once  have  loved  and  petted  her  baby-brother. 

"  It's  nothing  I  want  done  !  I'm  only  mad  !  I  do  despise 
meanness  ! " 

She  flung  a  book  upon  the  table  with  emphasis  that  made 
it  rebound  and  fall  to  the  floor.  I  picked  it  up,  examining 
the  corners  to  see  if  they  were  broken. 

"  Lizzie  Swayne  sent  it  to  me  !  Fora  Christmas  present  1 
We  have  always  exchanged  gifts  since  we  were  school-girls. 
A  stupid,  silly  book  of  poetry  !  Think  of  it !  Her  brother 
is  in  the  book-business,  you  see,  and  she  got  it  at  cost.  I 
do  detest  anything  that  smells  of  the  shop.  I  was  such  a 
ninny  as  to  send  her  the  sweetest  mouchoir-case  !  blue  satin 
and  silver  outside,  with  white  quilted  silk  lining  !  I  nearly 
put  my  eyes  out  working  it.  I  wish  I  had  kept  it  for  myself!" 

"  This  is  a  handsome  book,"  I  said,  appeasingly,  turning 
the  leaves. 

It  was  an  illustrated  copy  of  Coleridge's  "  Ancient  Mari- 
ner." The  etchings  were  spirited,  the  print  and  binding 
fine. 

"  A  baby's  story  about  a  sailor's  shooting  a  goose  ! "  she 
retorted.  "  About  fit  for  a  child,  five  or  six  years  old." 

I  was  not  set  for  the  defence  of  Coleridge   and  his   adult 


1 84  MY  LI  TTLE  L  O  VE. 

admirers.     Looking,  instead,  at  the   fly-leaf,  I    saw  that  it 
bore  no  inscription. 

"  Madge  ! "  I  proposed — "  if  you  really  do  not  care  for  the 
book,  I  will  take  it  off  your  hands,  at  the  retail  price — not 
the  cost," — we  both  laughed — "and  pay  you  next  week. 
I  am  impecunious,  at  present.  I  want  a  story-book  for  a 
little  daughter  of  Mr.  Darling.  I  forgot  her  yesterday,  and 
was  poor  besides.  She  likes  books — and  poetry-books, 
better  than  toys.  May  I  have  it  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart !  I  say,  Barry,  you  are  a  trump  to 
take  it  on  those  terms.  I  suppose  you  can  ascertain  the 
price  at  any  book-store." 

I  wrapped  the  volume  up  neatly,  when  our  Christmas 
breakfast  had  been  despatched,  my  card  inside  bearing  a 
pencilled  promise  to  call  during  the  day,  and  left  it  in  person 
at  Mr.  Darling's  door,  seeing  no  one  except  a  servant. 

I  was  at  liberty,  this  duty  done,  to  be  miserable  to  my 
heart's  content,  and  all  the  unhappier  because  no  one  asked 
if  I  were  curst  or  blest  on  this  holiday  of  Christendom. 

The  storm  was  continuous,  but  never  violent.  The 
streets  were  almost  deserted,  for  it  was  a  wet  snow,  varied  by 
an  occasional  fall  of  rain,  that  packed  it  into  a  clogging 
mass.  I  wandered  up-town,  cross-town,  down-town,  keeping 
well  away  from  the  quarter  in  which  the  Barneses  lived; 
hands  in  pockets,  hat  dragged  down  to  my  eyebrows,  eyes 
sullenly  averted  from  the  face  of  friend  or  stranger — a  grue- 
some figure  for  the  season,  but  past  caring  by  whom  I  was 
seen,  or  what  construction  was  put  upon  my  appearance. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  185 

There  was  no  straining  after  effect,  no  sensational  sentimen- 
tality, in  my  aimless  roaming  and  rueful  mien.  My  bruises 
were  new,  my  wounds  green  and  aching.  In  time  to  come 
I  might  solace  myself  with^  remembering  that  the  world  was 
wide.  Now,  I  only  felt  that  it  was  empty. 

The  snow  held  on,  balling  upon  my  boot-soles  until  my 
slouching  gait  became  a  stumble.  My  overcoat  was  white 
upon  the  shoulders  and  in  the  creases,  the  curling  brim  of 
my  so-lately-caressed  beaver  overran  with  slush,  and  dripped 
now  upon  my  nose,  now  down  my  neck.  In  this  condition 
I  found  myself  at  three  o'clock,  two  miles  from  home, 
sitting  upon  a  pile  of  lumber  under  a  rude  awning,  a  sort 
of  wharf-shed,  looking  down  and  out  at  the  river.  It  was 
raining  heavily,  but  not  fast,  a  dogged  pour  that  made  deep 
indentations  in  the  lead-colored  water,  washing  the  rotting 
piles.  The  mass  of  the  shipping  lay  further  down  the  river. 
A  solitary  sloop,  with  no  living  creature  visible,  or  near  it, 
except  a  dog,  chained  to  a  kennel  upon  deck,  was  tied  to 
the  pier,  pitching  slowly  in  the  incoming  tide. 

Alexander  Smith's  was  a  new  name  in  men's  mouths  at 
that  date.  I  had  taken  the  "  Life  Drama "  from  Aunt 
Evy's  knee,  a  fortnight  before,  and  read  some  pages  aloud  ; 
talked  with  her  of  these  lines,  little  foreseeing  when  and  how 
I  should  next  repeat  them. 

"  How  beautiful  the  yesterday  that  stood 
Over  me  like  a  rainbow  !    I  am  alone. 
The  Past  is  past.     I  see  the  future  stretch, 
All  dark  and  barren  as  a  rainy  sea." 


..- 

186  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

My  Future  !  My  Life  !  This  was  what  I  looked  upon. 
And  a  woman  had  done  it.  It  was  a  vile  piece  of  work.  I 
ought  to  have  been  enraged  at  the  cool  atrocity  with  which 
it  was  executed,  but  I  was  not.  That  was  for  last  night. 
After  the  fire,  cold  and  kindleless  cinders.  After  the 
eruption,  scoriae,  fit  but  to  be  trodden  under  foot  by  the 
brave  and  happy.  I  should  have  stood  excused  at  the  bar 
of  conscience  and  most  men's  opinions  had  I  learned  to 
hate  Bessie  Barnes,  as  mightily  as  I  had  loved  her.  I  might 
at  least,  in  decent  consistency,  have  been  angry  and 
ashamed  that  I  worshipped  her  still.  I  drew  the  japonica 
she  had  lost,  from  my  bosom,  faded  and  blackened  like  my 
hopes,  and  kissed  it.  In  doing  it,  I  thought  of  David, 
hunted  like  a  partridge  on  the  mountains,  deaf  to  the  oaths 
and  reproaches  of  the  wild  outlaws  of  his  body-guard,  while 
he  gazed  upon  the  fragment  of  the  royal  robe  in  his  fingers, 
shorn  while  the  king  slept.  It  was  not  Saul  the  slayer,  that 
he  remembered,  but  the  father  of  Jonathan  and  Michal,  the 
Lord's  anointed,  in  whose  sight  the  young  harper  had  been 
proud  to  find  favor. 

I  would  return,  by  letter,  the  token  of  what  I  had  seen 
and  overheard.  I  was  not  so  besotted  as  to  dream  of 
possible  reconciliation.  One  little  minute — a  score  of  words 
— had  made  the  Past  to  be  past :  removed  me  from  her  by 
the  dark  and  barren  distance  of  a  rainy  sea  whose  thither 
shore  I  could  not — I  should  never  behold.  Where  was  she 
now  ?  I  was  to  have  gone  to  her  this  afternoon — I  looked 
at  my  watch — at  this  very  hour.  She  had  never  said,  "  Not 


X 

MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  187 

at  home  "  to  me.  I  pictured  her  resting,  and  resting  the 
eyes  of  those  who  looked  on  her,  in  the  leaf- brown  puffiness 
of  the  satin  chair,  arrayed  in  one  of  my  favorite  dresses,  for 
she  consulted  my  taste  in  f  these  matters — eyes  soft  with 
retrospection,  the  fairest  tableau  of  "  Lady  awaiting  a 
Lover,"  that  ever  visited  limner's  fancy.  I  should  have  been 
a  dog  had  I  sought  her  to  lie  again  at  her  feet  and  sun  my- 
self in  her  smile.  I  knew  it,  while  mad  with  desire  for  a 
sight  of  her  face,  the  touch  of  her  hand. 

I  could  not  help  the  fever-thirst.  I  could,  by  sheer  stress 
of  will,  refrain  from  going  near  her ;  resist  the  temptation  to 
sacrifice  my  manliness.  This  I  did,  and  I  say  that  it  was 
more  than  could  have  been  expected  from  the  struck  boy  in 
whose  home  "  Christmas  was  made  little  account  of. " 

"  Wai  now,  I  do  declare  !  if  'tain't  you  !  " 

A  hand  encased  in  a  woollen  mitten  was  extended  to  me 
while  its  fellow  slapped  me  on  the  back.  Ezra  Gaskin's 
lean  face — one  cheek  distended  by  a  quid  of  tobacco,  his 
winter's  beard  running  to  seed  over  his  chin  and  meeting,  in 
a  gingery  shock,  the  velvet  coat-collar,  faded  to  the  same 
hue  by  time  and  weather — peered  into  mine,  the  pale  gums 
showing  above  the  broken  line  of  upper  teeth  in  his  grin  of 
welcome. 

"Who'd  a  thought  it  ?  On  a  Chris'mas  Day,  too  !  'Sposed 
ye  wer*  a  frolickin'  home,  or  some  place  else.  How  air  ye, 
ennyhow  ?  Folks  all  well  ?  " 

Hardly  waiting  for  the  brief  replies  to  these  queries,  he 
burst  forth  with  another  : 


1 88  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

"What  upon  yearth  brings  yer  deown  here,  this  time  o' 
day,  and  in  sech  weather  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  walking,"  said  I,  stiffly,  "  and  strayed  down 
town.  I  stopped  here  for  a  few  minutes  to  keep  out  of  the 
rain  and  to  look  at  the  water." 

"  Ain't  much  of  a  show  to-day  !  "  he  chuckled,  glancing 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  dingy  waste,  pitted  by  the  rain. 

The  tide  was  rolling  in  faster  and  the  ugly  sloop  creaked 
at  her  cable  with  every  plunge.  Ezra  winked  at  it. 

"  Come  down  on  that !  Load  o'  truck,  potatoes,  cabbage 
and  inguns,  mostly.  Gin'rally  send  'em  to  teown  by  th' 
skipper,  but  I  run  down  yesterday  to  pick  up  a  tomb-stun 
for  th'  old  lady — gran'ma,  you  mind?  Can't  set  it  into  the 
ground  'tell  the  frost's  out  of  course,  but  me  an'  ma,  we 
kinder  guessed  the  ar/*V£le  could  be  had  cheaper  in  winter 
when,  for  that  reason,  bis'ness  must  be  slack  in  monerments. 
We  jest  hit  the  nail  'pon  the  head.  I  happened  to  run  acrost 
a  ra'al  neat  item — white  marble,  all  carved  but  the  name  'n' 
date.  Even  '  In  Mem'ry  of ' —  'n'  '  Sister,  thou  was  mild  'n' 
lovely,'  cut  in  handsome  with  plenty  of  room  for  eteceterers. 
I  struck  a  bargain  with  the  fellow  on  th'  spot.  Wanted  him 
to  take  part  pay  in  sass,  but  he'd  no  call  for  nothin'  of  the 
kind,  he  said,  bein'  a  bachelor  an*  a  single  man.  Wall !  he 
filled  in  th'  blanks  to  order,  and  we  divided  the  cartage  deown 
to  th'  sloop,  and  she  come  aboard  las'  night  and  was  stowed 
awav  under  cover,  snug  as  could  be,  afore  dark.  Be  still, 
you  brute  !  "  shying  a  muddy  stone  at  the  dog  who  had 
raised  a  howl. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  189 

"He's  hungry,  I  guess.  Skipper's  been  off  all  day,  an' 
left  him  for  to  keep  house.  I  got  my  dinner  up-town  at  my 
brother's,  and  been  a-knockin'  'round  a  considerable  sence. 
Ef  I'd  a'knowed  jest  where  to  find  you,  I'd  a'  looked  in 
upon  ye.  Neow  I  what  d'ye  say  to  goin'  aboard  of  her  fur  a 
smoke,  and  I  would  like  to  have  yer  opinion  of  the  old 
lady's  stun.  Jest  fur  old  acquaintance  sake.  She  allers 
kinder  tuk  to  you,  when  you  was  so  peakin'  and  off  yer  feed. 
Thought  mebbe  you'd  enj'y  takin'  a  squint  at  her  head- 
stun." 

The  dog  held  up  his  head  until  his  nose  pointed  the 
zenith,  and  emitted  another  shrill  howl. 

I  began  to  beat  the  snow  from  my  coat,  and  shook  my 
hat,  preparatory  to  a  renewal  of  my  promenade. 

"  Excuse  me  ! "  I  said,  coldly.  "  I  ought  to  have  been  at 
home  an  hour  ago.  I  have  had  no  dinner  yet.  My  respects 
to  Mrs.  Gaskin." 

"  It's  rainin',  an'  you've  never  a  sign  of  an  umbereller  !  " 
objected  Ezra,  staying  me  with  the  worsted  mitten.  "I 
say  !  what  ails  ye  ?  You  ain't  a  bit  nat'ral,  to-day,  neither 
in  words,  nor  in  looks.  Don't  seem  to  know  'nough  to  go 
in  when  it  rains." 

He  leered  so  impudently  that  I  could  have  slapped  his 
lean  cheeks,  with  a  good  will.  I  felt  the  color  rush  to  mine. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ! "  I  demanded. 

Instead  of  replying,  he  laughed,  yet  more  impudently. 

"  Better  git  home  straight's  you  kin  and  stay  there,  Mr. 
Haye.  Young  men  will  be  young  men,  the  best  on  'em. 


1 90  M  Y  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

But  you've  been  a-goin'  it  a  leettle  to  hard,  I  mistrust.  Good- 
by  !  No  offence,  I  hope  !  O  Lor*  ! " 

I  was  out  of  hearing  of  his  snickering,  by  this,  but  as  I 
turned  the  corner  I  heard  the  dog  repeat  his  starved  howl, 
and  the  meaner  animal  command  him  to  "  hold  that  racket ! " 

I  had  no  definite  purpose  of  keeping  my  engagement  with 
Ailsie.  I  was  not  conscious  of  recollecting  it,  but  something — 
perhaps  a  single  fibre  of  the  fast-untwisting  thread  of  con- 
science— drew  me  to  the  street  in  which  the  Darlings  lived. 
So  disconnected  were  volition  and  motion  that  I  was  actu- 
ally passing  the  house  when  a  rapping  on  the  panes  drew  my 
eyes  upward  to  the  window  behind  which  I  saw  Ailsie  smil- 
ing and  beckoning. 

The  next  instant  she  was  standing  in  the  open  door,  her 
face  one  glad  glow. 

"I  am  not  fit  to  come  into  any  civilized  being's  house !  " 
I  remonstrated,  when  she  would  have  pulled  me  in.  "  I  am 
as  wet  as  a  drowned  squirrel." 

"The  more  reason  why  you  ought  to  come  in  and  get 
dry ! "  she  coaxed.  "  Now,  do  I  I  have  the  beautifullest 
fire  ever  made  in  the  parlor,  and  I've  been  playing  lady  there 
all  by  myself,  ever  so  long.  Reading  at  the  window.  And 
watching  for  you.  I  expected  you,  if  it  did  storm.  You 
always  keep  your  promises." 

She  had  me  inside  of  the  door  and  shut  it ;  then,  without 
releasing  her  hold  upon  my  wet,  ungloved  hand,  gently  drew 
me  into  the  front  parlor. 

It  was  warm  with  red  fire-light,  and  fragrant  with  Christ- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  191 

mas  evergreens  and  bouquets.  There  was  that  air  of  happy 
peacefulness  over  all  that  folds  instantly  and  sweetly  about 
the  consciousness  of  him  who  enters,  from  the  outer  world,  a 
room  which,  untenanted,  at  present,  bears  throughout,  evi- 
dences of  recent  and  luxurious  occupancy.  The  Spirit  of 
Home,  restful  and  smiling,  brooded  over  the  ruddy  hearth. 
The  breath  of  her  presence,  the  shine  of  her  furled  wings, 
warned  off  chill  and  gloom. 

Every  chamber  of  the  Darling  house  was  a  living-room, 
and  it  was  in  pleasant  keeping  with  the  family  habits  to  see 
Ailsie  curl  herself  up  in  a  capacious  Turkish  chair,  after  she 
had  divested  me  of  my  wet  overcoat  and  rubbers,  and  settled 
me  in  as  comfortable  a  seat  the  other  side  of  the  fire. 

"This  is  what  I  call  heavenly  I"  she  said,  drawing  out 
each  syllable  luxuriously.  "  It  is  what  I  have  been  wishing 
for  all  the  afternoon.  I  made  the  prettiest  picture  of  it  in 
my  head.  You  see,  Aunt  Evy  overtired  herself  yesterday 
and  this  morning,  and  has  one  of  her  detestable  headaches. 
Nothing  does  them  any  good  but  to  go  to  bed  and  be  per- 
fectly  quiet.  Papa  and  mamma  have  gone  to  a  Christmas 
dinner  at  Uncle  George's.  Robby  and  baby  are  having  a 
great  time  in  the  nursery  with  what  Robby  calls  his  '  play- 
toys,'  and  I  could  amuse  myself  as  I  liked.  The  book  you 
sent  me  was  per-fec-tion  !  I  have  read  it  three  times  already, 
and  I  was  learning  it  by  heart  when  -I  'spied  you.  'Course  I 
wasn't  sup-pe-rised  to  see  you.  But  your  being  here  was  all 
the  picture  wanted.  Listen  to  the  rain,  and  the  snow  melt- 
ing off  the  top  of  the  windows  and  porch  !  It  plays  a  real 


192  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

tune.  I  could  sing  it — '  pit-a-/«/  !  tip-a-tap-to/>  I  pit,  pit, 
pat  I '  Isn't  it  odd  it  should  keep  such  good  time  ?  Oh  !  "  a 
long  inspiration.  "  There's  nothing  so  jolly  as  a  stormy  day 
in  the  house,  with  a  nice  book  and  your  very  own-est  friend 
all  to  yourself,  and  nobody  bothering  'round  !  " 

I  was  very  tired,  I  began  to  discover,  leg-weary  and  empty. 
The  chair  was  luxurious ;  the  genial  heat  of  the  red  grate 
made  its  way  gradually  through  my  benumbed  frame.  It  was 
comforting,  too,  to  know  that  Ailsie  was  made  glad  by  my 
coming.  She  was  nothing  but  a  child,  but  I  had  been  beg- 
gared in  love  since  I  kissed  her  at  last  night's  parting. 
Something  like  the  warmth  of  life  stole  to  my  heart  with  her 
cheery,  loving  tones. 

"  You  are  the  dearest  little  friend  in  the  world  !  "  I  said, 
gratefully.  "  It  does  me  good  to  be  with  you." 

She  slipped  to  the  floor  and  came  to  my  side,  drawn  irresis- 
tibly by  love-words.  I  put  my  arm  about  the  small  creature, 
as  she  stood  by  me,  and  laid  my  head  on  her  shoulder. 

"  It  does  me  good  to  be  with  you,  Ailsie  !  "  I  repeated. 
"  There  are  so  few  who  care  for  me.  And  to-day,  I  have 
been  very  unhappy  !  " 

"  On  Christmas  !    I  am  sorry  ! " 

The  dear  hands  held  my  head  in  fond  enclasp ;  stroked 
my  hair  back  from  my  temples.  A  cheek,  soft  as  velvet, 
pressed  close  to  mine.  But  she  said  never  a  word  more. 
Her  fine  tact  would  not  suffer  her  to  question  me,  and  she 
was  too  wise  to  risk  unmeaning  phrases  of  consolation. 

The  short  winter  day  was  dying.     The  straight  rush  of  the 


LITTLE  LOVE.  1 93 

draught  over  the  fire-tipped  coals,  the  droning  song  of  the 
wind  in  the  chimney-throat,  the  tattoo  of  the  drip  outside  the 
window,  were  all  we  heard  for  a  time.  My  little  love  stayed 
by  me,  resolute,  patient,  dumb,  looking — I  could  feel — at  the 
fire,  thinking  of  and  sad  for  me,  with  the  selfless  compassion 
that  belongs  to  woman — and  angelhood.  She  would 
have  stood  thus  for  an  hour,  telling  of  this  and  much 
more  by  mute  caressing,  had  I  been  so  unkind  as  to 
permit  it. 

"  I  am  spoiling  your  Christmas,  and  making  a  sorry 
instead  of  a  pretty  picture  for  you  to  remember,"  I  ended 
the  silence  by  saying.  "  Sit  upon  my  knee,  and  we  will  talk 
of  pleasanter  things." 

She  obeyed  so  far  as  the  change  of  position  went.  Her 
face  did  not  relax  from  its  gravity.  The  large,  tender  look 
in  her  eyes  bespoke  a  travail  of  sympathy  I  could  not  bear 
to  see  when  I  was  the  cause  of  her  pain. 

"  Never  mind  me  !  "  she  said,  brusquely.  "  Pleasant  talk 
isn't  always  the  most  interesting.  And  'tisn't  easy  to  make- 
believe  you  are  happy  when  you  have  the  heart-ache." 

"  The  heart-ache  ! "  I  echoed,  smiling.  "  What  do  you 
know  of  that,  little  Ailsie  ?  " 

"Because  I  am  little  Ailsie,  you  believe  I  don't  under- 
stand. But  we  children  know  more  than  grown  folks  think. 
And  we  have  our  troubles.  There's  the  multiplication  table 
now  !  When  I've  said  my  prayers  at  night,  and  laid  down 
to  try  to  sleep,  and  I  recollect  that  I've  got  to  say  the  nine 
column  in  the  morning — even  to  Aunt  Evy — I  wish  I  could 
9 


194  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

die  before  I  wake.  I  do,  truly  !  GOD  understands.  That's 
one  comfort ! " 

She  linked  her  small  brown  fingers  together  on  her  knee  ; 
her  eyes  saying  unutterable  things  to  the  fire  that  grew  redder 
and  brighter  with  the  thickening  of  the  snow-shroud  without 
the  windows. 

Was  "  that "  a  comfort  to  me  ?  The  question  was  a  thrill, 
almost  a  shock.  What  did  I  know,  or  think,  of  the  All- 
Knowing  and  All-Loving  ?  Had  the  wild  passion  that  had 
consumed  me  during  that  fatal  ten  days  wrought  purifica- 
tion, or  degradation,  within  me  ?  Was  I  more,  or  less  of  a 
man,  for  studying  Bessie  Barnes's  beauty  when  with  her  and 
dreaming  of  it  when  away  ?  What  part  or  lot  had  I  in  the 
sublime  simplicity  of  this  child,  who  had  suffered,  as  she 
loved,  with  all  her  little  might ;  who  in  the  dreads  at  which  I 
could  not  laugh,  so  genuine  were  they,  rested  her  whole 
weight  upon — "  GOD  understands  ! " 

Ailsie  was  many  removes  from  the  approved  type  of  pious 
childhood.  From  first  to  last,  there  was  not  a  feature  of  the 
"goody"  baby  about  her.  She  had  her  hates,  and  her  aver- 
sions; her  tempers  and  tantrums — all  hearty  and  undis- 
guised. Her  very  earnestness  of  feeling  and  range  of  thought 
added  to  the  intensity  of  her  untoward  moods.  But  above  and 
under  foible  and  fault,  were  integrity  that  never  swerved  ;  faith 
hope,  and  love  in  the  GOD  and  Father  of  all,  that  was  almost 
sight. 

I  spoke  out  my  musing. 

"  I  wish  I  felt  as  you  do,  Ailsie  !    But  I  am  a  very  wicked 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  195 

boy,  sometimes.  At  all  times,  I  am  afraid.  I  want  what  I 
wish  for,  whether  it  is  good  for  me,  or  not.  And  my  nine- 
column  is  such  an  ugly  customer,  I  feel  more  like  righting, 
than  praying,  when  I  think  of  it." 

"  Praying  is  a  capital  thing  when  you  can  fix  your  mind  on 
it,"  was  the  knowing  rejoinder.  "  It  helps  one  awfully  !  But, 
unless  you  mean  every  single  word  you  say,  you're  apt  to  get 
to  thinking  about  something  else — generally  silly  things,  and 
that s  another  bother  !  There's  many  a  bother  for  us  poor 
creatures,  seems  to  me.  It's  easy  to  get  rid  of  some.  Some 
stick  like  the  Spanish  needles  that  used  to  run  into  my 
stockings  and  hang  on  my  dress,  last  summer." 

A  ray  of  amusement  pierced  my  melancholy.  Was  my 
slighted  love  "  a  bother  that  would  stick  ?  "  A  caprice  seized 
me.  I  drew  the  withered  japonica  from  my  pocket. 

"  Ailsie  !  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor.  Take  this — care- 
fully, for  it  is  precious — and  lay  it,  just  as  carefully,  on  the 
hottest  pile  of  coal — there  ! "  pointing  to  the  grate.  "  And 
ask  no  questions." 

She  eyed  me  inquiringly,  the  faded  flower  intently,  as  it 
lay  upon  her  palm. 

"  If  it  is  precious — "  she  began — checked  herself  and  col- 
ored. 

Without  another  word  she  laid  the  japonica  gently  in  a 
little  hollow  where  waves  of  white  heat  were  quivering  like 
live  things. 

I  covered  my  eyes  with  my  hand,  until  she  said  in  a  low, 
awed  voice,  "  It  is  quite  burnt  up,"  then  looked  up  to  meet 


1 9 6  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

her  pitying  regards.  She  would  not  let  them  be  puzzled  by 
what  I  did  not  choose  to  explain. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  ! "  I  said,  in  lightness  she  seemed  to 
see  was  feigned.  "  Some  day,  when  you  and  I  are  married, 
Ailsie,  I  will  tell  you  what  that  meant.  By  that  time  we  will 
laugh  at  the  whole  affair." 

"  Not  if  you  don't  choose,"  she  reiterated  briefly.  "  Are 
you  ready,  quite  ready,  to  think  about  something  else  ?  You 
are  to  take  tea  with  me.  Right  here  in  the  parlor  !  It's 
growing  so  dark,  it  must  be  time  to  see  about  getting  it 
ready.  Would  you  mind  lighting  the  gas  while  I  am  gone  ? 
I  won't  be  a  minute." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


COMFORTED. 

SAT  by  the  fire  in  a  reverie  that  had  for  its 
starting-point  and  centre  the  little  pit  of 
white  flame,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a 
pinch  of  gray  ashes  tossing  in  the  heat-waves. 
My  life  had  had  its  grand  passion,  then,  which, 
having  burned  out,  had  emptied  my  heart  of  all  save 
worthless  residuum.  When  the  days  of  my  mourning 
should  be  accomplished,  hope  would  lie  as  lifeless 
as  the  dust  of  the  dead  flower.  My  "  nine-column  " 
would  be  to  take  up  the  burden  of  life — a  body  with- 
out breath  or  beauty — and  bear  it  to  the  welcome  end. 
Welcome  because  it  was  the  end.  I  was  very  unhappy,  and 
general  dolefulness  had  set  in  heavily.  Physical  inanition 
was  an  element  that  entered  largely  into  my  depression,  but 
this  I  did  not  know.  The  suggestion  would  have  mortified 
me  had  it  been  made.  I  was  too  faint  of  stomach — I  thought 
of  heart — to  reason  consecutively.  To  sit  still,  staring  at  the 
inch-wide  crater  of  the  topmost  lump  of  ignited  coal,  and  to 
be  desperately  wretched,  was  the  limit  of  my  capacity.  I 
had  done  enough  of  this  sort  of  business  within  the  last 
twenty-four  hours  to  understand  the  process. 


198  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

I  had  the  grace  to  feel  abashed  at  Ailsie's  exclamation — 
"Why,  you  are  in  the  dark,  still !"  and  to  jump  up  to  per- 
form her  forgotten  behest,  apologizing  for  my  neglect  by  say- 
ing that  "  I  liked  the  firelight." 

"  'Tisn't  good  to  eat  by,"  observed  the  little  housekeeper, 
clearing  books  and  papers  from  the  centre-table  in  a  great 
hurry.  "  Think  of  our  having  a  tea-party — you  and  I — by 
our  lone  selves  !  Mamma  left  orders  we  should  if  you  came, 
for  I  was  certain  you'd  be  in  about  tea-time.  And  Norah 
is  in  a  grand  humor,  on  account  of  her  Christmas  presents. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  her  fly  around  to  get  up  what  she 
called  "a  beautiful,  nate  tay — and  wasn't  it  loocky  we  were 
to  have  it  so  airly,  so's  she  could  hurry  on  her  hat  and  rin 
'round  the  corner  in  sayson  to  attind  Barney  Finnegan's 
wake — rist  his  sowl ! '  " 

Ailsie  was  innocently  vain  of  her  '  excellent  Irish,'  and 
not  unfrequently  aired  it  for  my  benefit.  She  was  a  born 
mimic  as  she  was  an  elocutionist.  Her  tongue  ran  now  as 
if  the  vocal  apparatus  were  just  wound  up. 

"  I  saved  half  of  my  birth-day  cake  for  you.  It  was  a 
beauty  !  All  over  icing  and  flowers,  with  seven  weeny  wax 
candles  stuck  in  the  top.  There's  one  for  every  year,  you 
know.  But  won't  it  have  to  be  a  "  whopper  "  when  I  am  fifty 
years  old  ?  Do  you  know  that's  the  only  trouble  I  have  about 
your  being  so  very  much  older  than  me  ?  I  won't  be  clever 
enough  to  get  married  before  I'm  twenty-one.  By  that  time, 
you'll  be—" 

"  Ailsie  !  "  arresting  my  work  of  assisting  her,  the  picture 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  1 99 

of  blank  dismay.     "  You  are  not  thinking  of  throwing  rne 
overboard,  after  all  your  promises  !  " 

She  set  her  head  on  one  side,  like  a  saucy  sparrow, 
giving  her  face  the  comical  upward  twist  she  only  could 
achieve. 

"  That's  'cording  as  you  behave,  Mr.  Barry  !  If  you  stay 
away  many  more  week-and-a-halfs,  there's  no  telling  what 
may  happen." 

This  was  the  sole  reproof  she  ever  administered  for  my 
truancy.  From  no  one  else  would  she  hear  a  whisper  in 
reprobation  of  it.  "  The  king  can  do  no  wrong,"  was  the 
rule  of  word  and  action ;  although,  until  happy  in  my  re- 
stored allegiance,  she  had  not  been  able  to  discuss  with  any 
one  beside  her  aunt  the  desertion  she  felt  so  acutely. 

Norah  had  sustained  her  vaunt  of  the  "  beautiful  tay," 
which  she  soon  brought  in  upon  a  large  tray  and  set  down  be- 
tween us  on  the  table.  There  were  a  tiny  silver  tea-pot  of 
strong  hot  tea  for  me,  with  milk  for  Ailsie  ;  bread  and  butter, 
thin  slices  of  ruby  tongue,  doughnuts  and  cheese,  birthday 
cake,  calves' -foot  jelly  and  cream.  Such  canine  and  unroman- 
tic  hunger  attacked  me  at  sight  of  the  display,  that  I  forgot 
to  be  chagrined  at  the  unlovely  weakness  until  after  the  feast. 
Ailsie's  self-felicitation  in  the  Christmas  banquet  and  my 
participation  therein,  was  the  prettiest  thing  imaginable. 
She  could  not  maintain  the  state  she  at  first  attempted,  as 
my  hospitable  vis-d-vis,  but  hovered  about  me  with  sugar- 
dish,  cream-pitcher,  and  cake-basket,  like  a  guardian  sylph, 
pressing  viands  and  sweets  upon  me  with  urgency  I  did  not 


2  oo  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

resist  until  the  craving  appetite  of  a  long  young  man,  who 
had  fasted  all  day,  was  gratified. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  eat  so  nicely  !  "  prattled  the 
unsuspecting  hostess.  "  Some  grown  people  make-believe 
at  children's  parties.  It's  nibble,  nibble  !  and  sip,  and  smack 
their  lips  over  the  leastest  crumb  and  drop  !  Just  to  please 
us  !  As  if  we  didn't  see  right  through  their  humbuggering  ! 
But  you  take  hold,  like  a  gentleman,  as  you  would  at  mam- 
ma's table." 

"  Because  everything  is  so  good,  Ailsie,  and  I  am  really 
hungry,"  said  I,  honestly. 

But  f  could  not  disabuse  her  mind  of  the  belief  that  I  had 
done  much  to  oblige  her  in  "  taking  hold." 

The  table  was  cleared,  finally,  the  tray  carried  off  by 
Norah,  and  books  and  papers  rearranged  with  conscientious 
precision.  Then  Ailsie  produced  "  Ye  Ancient  Mariner." 

"  If  you  wouldn't  mind  " — her  favorite  preface  to  a  peti- 
tion— "reading  it  over  with  me?  There  are  some  odd 
words  I  don't  understand.  And  some  of  the  verses  I  would 
like  you  to  ex-plain." 

The  shutters  were  closed  upon  the  storm.  Norah  had 
replenished  the  fire  and  swept  up  the  hearth,  before  depart- 
ing to  her  funereal  festivity.  I  was  comforted  in  body, 
and  more  equable  in  spirits  than  was  natural  or  dignified  in 
one  who  had  so  lately  reduced  the  interests  and  joys  of  exist- 
ence to  a  quarter-teaspoonful  of  ashes.  My  little  love 
brought  her  chair  up  to  mine,  leaned  confidingly  against  me 
while  I  read  aloud.  We  stopped  at  each  illustration  and 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  201 

passed  our  sentence  upon  design  and  execution.  She  asked 
and  received  explanations  of  such  words  as  "  eftsoons," 
"shrieve,"  and  "  ivy-tod ;"  but  she  listened,  for  the  most 
part,  in  attention  that  had  no  audible  language — scarcely 
breath. 

When  the  last  lines  were  read,  her  breast  heaved  in  a 
painful  respiration. 

"  Poor  man  !  how  he  suffered  !  Yet  he  had  done  a  wicked 
thing.  I  don't  see  how  it  could  have  happened.  For  you 
see" — turning  back  some  leaves — "the  albatross  was 

'  The  bird  that  loved  the  man 

Who  shot  him  with  his  bow  ! ' 

I  should  think  he  could  as  soon  have  killed  a  little  baby  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  playing  with.  But  he  was  punished 
fearfully.  That  is  what  'penance'  means,  isn't  it?  It 
makes  your  flesh  crawl  to  think  of  his  carrying  that  dead 
bird  hanging  around  his  neck." 

She  turned  other  leaves,  meditatively. 

"  There  are  some  of  the  loveliest  verses  in  here  !  Isn't 
that  just  like  being  in  the  woods — our  woods — in  summer- 
time ?  Or  out  on  grandpa's  piazza  in  the  moonlight,  lis- 
tening to  the  waterfall  at  the  bottom  of  the  lawn  ?  " 

I  read  the  lines  designated  by  her  finger : 

"  A  noise  like  of  a  hidden  brook, 

In  the  leafy  month  of  June, 
That  to  the  sleeping  woods,  all  night, 

Singeth  a  quiet  tune." 
9* 


202  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"And  there's  that  about  the  little  birds" — she  went  on 

rapidly — "  that 

— '  seemed  to  fill  the  sea  and  air 

With  their  sweet  jargoning.' 
1 

"  I  shall  always  think  of  it  when  the  birds  wake  me  in  the 

morning  in  the  country.  I  shall  never,  never — not  if  I  live 
to  be  a  million — be  able  to  say  such  beautiful  things  ! " 

Her  voice  faltered,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  her  eyes  fill 
with  tears. 

"  Ailsie,  pet !  "    I  exclaimed.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

For  answer,  she  hid  her  face  against  my  arm,  and  sobbed 
that  she  "didn't  know.  Pretty  things  that  she  saw  and 
heard  made  her  feel  strange,  sometimes.  Not  just  as  if  she 
was  sorry.  But — but — oh,  couldrft  I  understand  ?  " 

This  last  with  a  petulant  dash  of  the  drops  from  her 
lashes. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  I  answered.  "  I  do  comprehend.  But, 
Ailsie  !  such  feelings  are  a  sure  sign  that  you  will  be  able  to 
write  and  say  beautiful  things,  some  day.  That  is  something 
to  look  forward  to." 

"It  hurts  here  /"  she  continued,  piteous,  yet  much  con- 
soled, laying  her  hand  upon  her  heart — "  and  here  /"  clasp- 
ing her  throat.  "  I  want  to  cry,  and  yet,  all  the  while,  I 
know  I'm  only  glad." 

I  should  have  smiled  at  the  thought  of  repeating  to 
another  child  the  words  that  arose  to  my  lips  at  this  naive 
attempt  to  syllable  soul-yearning,  but,  as  she  rested  within 
my  encircling  arm,  I  said,  slowly,  and  softly — 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  203 

"  I  see  the  lights  of  the  village 

Gleam  through  the  rain  and  the  mist, 
And  a  feeling  of  sadness  comes  o'er  me 
That  my  soul  cannot  resist. 

"A  feeling  of  sadness  and  longing 

That  is  not  akin  to  pain, 
And  resembles  sorrow  only 

As  the  mists  resemble  the  rain. 

"  That  is  something  like  what  you  mean,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Please  say  it  again  ! " 

I  complied,  and  then  she  repeated  it  for  herself,  without  a 
mistake. 

"  Thank  you  for  telling  it  to  me  !     I  shall  never  forget  it." 

We  chatted  of  other  things,  I  leading  the  way.  I  was 
never  easy  when  the  ardent  spirit  so  far  outleaped  her  years. 
I  believed  then — and  I  have  seen  no  cause  since  to  change 
my  mind — that  as  many  precocious  children  live  to  become 
commonplace  men  and  women,  as  die  and  leave  in  their 
stead  in  the  places  that  once  knew  them,  beauteous  memo- 
ries, fairer  and  dearer  with  every  year  that  roots  the  sod 
upon  their  graves.  But  I  felt,  instinctively,  that  no  common 
lot — made  up  of  everyday  joys  and  ordinary  griefs — lay 
before  her  who,  but  yesterday,  passed  the  boundary  of 
infancy.  Already,  existence  meant  to  her  earnestness,  per- 
plexity, endeavor.  Knowledge,  sorrow,  love,  would  be  no 
holiday  themes  with  her  as  girl  and  woman.  Nature  had 
set  upon  soul,  heart,  and  face,  the  signet — "  This  child  has 


204  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

a  Destiny,  and  she  will  be  straitened  until  it  be  accom- 
plished." 

"  Whom  do  you  think  I  met  down  by  the  river,  to-day, 
Alisie  ?"  asked  I.  "  Our  old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Gaskin. 
He  had  come  to  town  to  sell  a  load  of  potatoes." 

Her  lip  curved  contemptuously. 

"I  should  think" — with  withering  emphasis — "that  he 
was  just  the  sort  of  man  who  would  peddle  potatoes  about 
town  on  Christmas  Day.  Bah  !  And  how  is  Mrs.  '  Ezry?  ' 
Had  he  seen  anybody  from  grandpa's,  lately  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  inquire.  He  invited  me  to  go  with  him  on  a 
sloop  in  which  he  had  brought  down  his  truck — '  mostly  pota- 
toes, cabbage  and  inguns' — a  raw  'biled  dinner,'  and  enough 
to  feast  the  city,  but  I  declined.  I  dare  say  he  would  have 
let  me  stay  to  supper,  if  I  had  hinted  hard  enough.' 

"  It's  a  pity  you.  missed  the  salt  pork  and  cold  potatoes. 
Uncle  Wy  says  he  is  the  most  penu-ri-ant  man  he  ever  saw." 

Ailsie  dearly  loved  to  handle  polysyllables,  as  I  have  said. 
It  was  always  diverting  to  me  when  a  very  stout  one  got  the 
better  of  her. 

"  I'm  glad  he  doesn't  visit  here,"  she  continued.  "  I 
can't  bear  him.  Nor  ever  could.  He  looks  mean  and  bad 
to  me,  ever  since  the  day  he  came  down  the  bank  and  turned 
up  his  nose  at  the  '  Bower.'  '  If  ye're  hard  up  for  work, 
better  lend  me  a  hand,  hoein'  potatoes  ! '  said  he.  He 
ought  to  have  been  a  potato  himself.  Then  he  would  have 
been  happy.  His  nose,  indeed.  As  if  it  wasn't  curly 
enough,  already  !  " 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  205 

I  laughed. 

Tennyson's  "  tip-tilted  like  the  petal  of  a  flower"  was  not 
a  more  apt  description  of  his  heroine's  retroussk  feature 
than  was  Ailsie's  epithet  of  the  twists  and  knobs  in  Ezra's 
proboscis.  Encouraged  by  my  laugh,  she  dealt  him  another 
tap. 

"  Somehow,  he  reminds  mefof  the  'mother'  I  saw  grand- 
pa take  out  of  a  vinegar-barrel  once — tough  and  sour  and 
slimy.  Faugh  !  " 

I  looked  at  my  watch. 

"  It  is  time  small  people  like  you  and  myself  were  asleep," 
I  said.  "  Before  I  go,  won't  you  sing  '  Kathleen  O'More' 
— to  get  the  taste  of  the  '  mother '  out  of  our  mouths  ?  " 

When  the  ballad  was  finished,  she  mused  for  awhile. 

"  I  have  sung  that  so  often  I  am  quite  acquainted  with 
Kathleen,"  she  said,  dreamily.  "  I  know  exactly  how  she 
looks,  sitting  on  the  steps,  '  to  hear  the  wind  blow  and  look 
at  the  moon.'  There's  a  vine  of  some  kind  running  over 
the  door,  and  the  wind  blows  the  leaves  of  it.  And  her  hair, 
too,  for  she  has  no  hat  on  her  head.  Her  pretty  blue  eyes 
are  sad — I  can't  just  make  out  why.  Not  quite  sorry,  but — 

'  As  the  mists  resemble  the  rain.' 

It's  der-licious  that  you  taught  me  that !  It  ex-plains  so 
much.  If  I  could  draw,  I  would  make  a  picture  of  her 
grave,  with  the  robin  red-breast  hopping  over  it.  There 
would  be  a  holly  tree  all  berries  for  Christmas,  close  by,  and 
to-night  the  ground  is  covered  with  snow.  Robins  are  not 


2  06  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

afraid  of  snow.  But  it  makes  you  feel  lonesomely,  to  think 
how  it  is  lying  over  real  people.  That  is,  of  course,  when 
we  can't  make  ourselves  believe  that  the  soul  isn't  there.  I 
wish,  Mr.  Barry  "  with  pathetic  depth  of  expression,  "  that 
I  could  precisely  understand  about  people's  souls.  Now, 
this  is  me  !  " 

She  put  out  her  plump  brown  hands,  and  felt  the  one  and 
the  other,  as  if  to  assure  herself  that  this  was  true. 

"I  can  see  and  feel  that  it  is  the  same  Me  who  thinks  and 
talks.  And,  some  day,  just  because  the  breath  has  gone 
out  of  it,  my  father  and  mother  will  be  willing  to  put  the 
very  same  Me  into  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  leave  it  out  in 
the  cold  and  dark  and  storm — all  by  itself.  Instead  of 
caring  any  more  for  the  poor  little  body  lying  there  with  its 
eyes  shut,  as  if  waiting  to  be  waked  up,  they'll  be  talking 
about  '  Ailsie  in  heaven.'  The  soul-Ailsie  they  nor  nobody 
else  ever  saw !  There's  no  use  saying  anything  to  me  about 
it !  It's  a  riddle-me-ree  all  the  way  through.  Just  the  com- 
icalest  thing  ever  was !  I  sufl-pose  if  you  were  to  study 
about  nothing  else  all  your  life  time,  it  might  be  plain  by 
the  day  you  came  to  die.  I  sufl-pose,  too,  it's  awful  sinful — 
maybe  blas-phe-mious — but  I  dorft  want  to  die,  Mr.  Barry  ! 
I  went  over  it  all  to  myself  last  Sunday  when  the  other  chil- 
dren in  Sunday-school  were  singing  that  they  '  wanted  to  be  an 
angel,  And  with  the  angels  stand,  A  crown  upon  their  fore- 
head, And  a  harp  within  their  hand.'  I  didn't  sing  it  because 
I  didn't  want  to  be  any  such  thing.  I  can't  help  loving  to 
live.  It  sounds  ri-dic-e-lous,  but  I  love  my  poor  little  body. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  207 

Even  if  it '  must  die,  this  mortal  frame  decay,  and  these  active 
limbs  of  mine  lie  mouldering  in  the  clay  ! '  Ugh  !  That's 
the  most  des-gust-ingest  hymn  I  know.  The  idea  of  singing 
such  words  ! " 

She  had  thought  and  talked  herself  into  pale  excitement. 
I  raised  her  to  my  lap  again  and  chafed  her  fingers,  which 
were  cold  and  tremulous. 

"  You  should  not  torment  your  dear  little  self  about  such 
matters — especially  so  near  bed-time,"  I  said,  soothingly. 
"  It  is  all  imagination,  Ailsie.  The  soul  is  so  much  the 
better  part  of  us  that  we  can  afford  to  let  the  other  go,  when 
we  have  no  more  use  for  i^" 

Her  burst  of  hysterical  laughter  startled  me.  It  was 
several  minutes  before  she  could  speak  articulately,  and  the 
tears  she  wiped  away  were  of  genuine  mirth. 

"  That  minds  me — "  she  related  still  laughing,  "  of  what 
happened  when  I  was  small.  Mamma  and  I  found  the 
shell  of  a  locust  in  grandpa's  woods,  one  day,  and  she 
explained  to  me  how  he  had  split  it  down  the  back  and 
crawled  out,  when  his  wings  sprouted,  and  how  that  was  the 
way  the  soul  shook  off  the  body.  At  least,  that  was  what  I 
thought  she  said.  So,  another  day,  Clarine  was  leaning  so 
far  out  of  the  window,  I  was  afraid  she'd  tumble,  and  I 
caught  hold  of  her  dress,  and  called  to  her — 'Don't  you 
know  if  you  break  your  neck  they'll  take  your  skin  off  and 
make  an  angel  of  you  ? ' 

"It's  really  s'prising  what  silly  things  children  can  say. 
And  they  think  a  million  sillier  ones  they  daren't  speak  out 


208  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

for  fear  grown  people  would  laugh  at  them.  That's  the 
absurdest  and  meanest  way  any  man  or  woman  can  have — 
laughing  at  a  foolish,  innorant  hop-o-my-thumb  of  a  child ! 
They  aren't  so  fond  of  being  made  fun  of  themselves,  I'm 
sure." 

I  "  s'prised  "  myself  by  smiling  at  this  little  anecdote  as  I 
ploughed  my  way  home  through  the  sodden  snow,  that,  in 
spite  of  alternate  rain-falls,  was  six  inches  on  the  level. 

"  The  quaintest  and  dearest  child  that  ever  lived  !  "  was 
my  soliloquy  on  entering  the  dormitory  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  last  night's  agony.  "Who  would  have  believed 
that,  after  all,  I  should  have  jjad  a  tolerable  Christmas 
evening  ?  " 

I  fell  obstinately  to  work,  next  morning.  I  would  not 
dwell  upon  what  had  been.  Still  less  should  visions  of 
Might-have-been  interfere  with  the  systematic  hardening  of 
my  untempered  heart.  I  fought — and  conquered — the  insane 
desire  to  walk  within  sight  of  the  Barnes  house,  whenever  I 
went  abroad.  1  dug  diligently  into  a  ponderous  work  upon 
Anatomia,  in  preference  to  a  newer  and  more  interesting 
treatise  upon  Cardiac  Affections,  and  to  enforce  my  atten-' 
tion  to  the  driest  details  of  the  subject,  I  made,  each  night, 
a  copious  abstract  of  the  day's  reading. 

For  recreation — or,  more  correctly  speaking — relaxation, 
I  went  nearly  every  evening,  "  between  the  lights,"  to  Mr. 
Darling's  for  a  talk  with  Aunt  Evy,  and  a  frolic  with  Ailsie. 
Sometimes,  I  called  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  and  took  the 
latter  out  walking.  About  once  in  three  days  I  made  a 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  209 

professional  diagnosis  of  my  state,  and  always  with  encour- 
aging results.  I  was  on  the  highroad  to  permanent  cure- 
A  little  tenderness  still,  under  pressure :  some  febrile  action 
at  obtrusive  gushes  of  memory  :  vertigo  at  inopportune 
seasons  excited  by  trivial  causes — the  flutter  of  a  dress 
around  a  corner ;  the  sight  of  a  pretty  foot  encased  in  a 
fashionable  gaiter ;  the  smell  of  certain  flowers,  and,  one 
night,  the  accident  of  walking  home  from  Mr.  Darling's  in  a 
fog.  I  could  have  wished  that  these  tests  had  been  applied 
without  effect.  But  it  might  have  been  much  worse  with 
me.  There  might  have  been  need  for  the  cautery  and  the 
moxa,  whereas,  mental  tonics  and  moderate  diversion  were 
the  milder  measures  indicated. 

I  had  not  been  more  sanguine  of  speedy  recovery  since 
receipt  of  the  hurt,  than  upon  one  bright  afternoon  in  mid- 
January,  when  Ailsie  and  I  went  nutting. 

"  Nutting  !  "  cried  Aunt  Evy,  dropping  her  knitting-work, 
"  You  absurd  masculine  !  The  squirrels  and  the  rains  have 
ruined  all  the  nuts  spared  by  human  spoilers." 

"  Nevertheless,  we  go  a  nutting,"  I  replied.  "  Ailsie  ! 
run  for  your  overcoat  and  hat — I  mean  your  hood  and 
cloak!" 

She  was  as  bewildered  as  her  aunt,  but  of  this  the  leal 
little  soul  betrayed  no  symptom.  Kissing  her  hand  to  me 
as  she  ran,  she  was  off  like  the  wind  to  make  ready  for  the 
mysterious  expedition.  "  Don't  forget  a  basket  !  "  I  called 
after  her.  "  A  big  one  !  " 

"  She  would  go  with  you  blind-fold,  to  the  world's  end  ! '' 


210  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

said  Aunt  Evy.  "No  man  ever  had  a  more  staunch 
champion.  Your  goodness  to  her  is  thoroughly  appreciated, 
Barry.  Not  by  her  alone,  but  by  us  all.  You  are  making 
her  gloriously  happy.  She  is  growing  on  the  sunny  side  of 
the  wall." 

"  Don't  say  that  I  do  her  good  ! "  I  hastened  to  say. 
"  She  is  my  heart-missionary.  I  owe  her  more  than  I  can 
tell  you." 

The  thin  white  hand  touched  mine  as  it  lay  on  the  elbow 
of  my  chair.  "That  is  well.  She  would  ask  no  dearer 
mission.  You  have  not  been  quite  yourself  for  some  weeks. 
You  are  less  talkative,  less  blithe  than  in  the  early  winter. 
I  do  not  ask  your  confidence.  If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way 
you  will  not,  I  hope,  defraud  me  of  "the  pleasure — and  the 
right.  I  am  much  older  than  you,  but  I  have  not  forgotten 
that  young  blood  is  hot,  and  how  short  and  easy  is  the 
downhill  road — how  thickly  set  with  temptations  to  stray 
further  from  the  safe  way." 

A  delicate  flush  tinged  her  cheeks  ;  she  kept  her  eyes 
upon  her  work. 

"  I  am  passing  rich,  Barry,  for  a  single  woman  whose 
wants  are  few.  If  money — or  the  lack  of  it — is  the  trouble, 
let  me  be  your  banker,  and  no  one  shall  be  the  wiser." 

"  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind  !  "  I  assured  her,  precipitately. 
"  Nor  do  I  drink  or  gamble — " 

"  Don't  be  lured  by  a  wily  spinster  into  confessions  which 
you  may  repent,"  she  interrupted.  "  It  is  quite  possible  that 
Ailsie  may  be  your  best  teacher  as  she  is  your  best  comfort- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  211 

er.  It  must  be  a  sore  heart,  indeed,  which  the  soft  hand  of  a 
little  child  presses  to  bruising.  Don't  be  vexed  when  you 
think  over  what  I  have  said,  or  accuse  me  of  prying  into 
your  secrets.  Remember  that  you  are  the  adopted  son  of 
the  household,  my  nephew-in-law  that  is  to  be,  and  forgive 
an  auntie's  freedom  of  speech." 

"  If  I  could — if  I  thought  it  wise  to  confide  to  anybody  a 
trouble  that  is  mine  alone, — that  never  did,  and  never  can 
affect  another  person  living,  I  would  seek  no  other  comfor- 
ter or  adviser  than  yourself,"  was  my  reply.  "  But  it  is  all 
over  and  done  with,  Aunt  Evy.  I  have  been  an  egregious 
fool — I  could  knock  my  brains  out  against  your  mantel  there, 
when  I  recount  the  gradations  of  my  monstrous  folly  to 
myself — and  I  am  paying  the  piper,  with  no  humor  for  more 
dancing.  That  is  the  story  in  brief.  I  have  promised  to 
tell  Ailsie  all  about  it  on  our  wedding-day.  Until  then,  I 
shall  make  it  my  business  to  recollect  it  as  seldom  as  possi- 
ble." 

She  gave  back  my   smile,  all  the  interest  she  was  good 

• 
enough  to  feel  in  me  beaming  in  the  pale,  sweet  face,  that 

always  reminded  me  of  the  words — "  clear  shining  after 
rain,"  and  there  the  subject  rested. 

Ailsie's  preparations  were  swiftly  made.  She  returned  to 
us  equipped  in  a  navy-blue  pelisse  (I  think  that  was  the 
name  of  the  trig  over-dress,  buttoned  from  the  throat  to  the 
bottom  of  the  skirt).  A  scarlet  scarf  was  knotted  about  her 
neck,  and  a  red-bird's  wing  gave  piquancy  to  her  velvet 
cap.  Her  cheeks  were  almost  as  bright  as  her  feathers,  and 


212  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

she  danced  on  tiptoe  instead  of  walking,  in  the  wildness  of 
curiosity  and  the  actual  glee  of  present  pleasure.  The 
basket  was  not  forgotten,  and  she  resisted  my  offer  to  carry 
it,  skipping  away  when  I  would  have  used  gentle  force  to 
secure  my  end. 

The  air  was  sharp  and  dry,  heightening  the  bloom  and 
brightness  of  her  face  as  she  danced  backward  along  the 
sidewalk,  mischievous  yet  loving  in  the  gleaming  regards 
cast  upon  my  soberer  self. 

"  What  a  magnificent  woman  she  will  be  ! "  thought  I, 
and  with  the  vision  of  womanhood  recurred  her  words  : 
"  When  I  am  grown,  you  will  be  'most  a  hundred."  She 
would  be  grown  in  twelve  years  at  most.  I  should  then  be 
thirty-three.  A  man  in  his  early  prime.  A  bachelor,  of 
course.  The  Spring  of  .love  falls  not  twice  in  the  same  life- 
time. I  had  heard  of  men — very  foolish  fellows  I  had  thought 
them  once,  but  judgment  was  crude  with  me  in  those  days 
—who  trained  wives  "  to  their  hand"  from  infancy.  What 
if  our  mock  courtship  and  matrimonial  compact  were,  in 
the  very  long  run,  to  prove  something  more  than  badinage  ? 
I  could  take  wiser  care  of  my  little  love  than  any  young 
blood  who  should  be  captivated  by  her  handsome  face  and 
engaging  ways,  and  declare  himself  (and  more  besides)  after 
three  weeks'  acquaintanceship. 

I  shook  the  phantasm  out  of  my  brain,  impatiently.  I  have 
been  a  believer  since  in  the  proverb  touching  the  "  heart 
caught  in  the  rebound."  I  entertained  myself,  for  the  next 
rod  or  two,  with  investigating  the  apparent  anomaly,  and 


My  LITTLE  LOVE.  213 

decided  that  the  average  man,  having  got  into  the  habit  of 
loving,  cannot  summon  strength  to  throw  himself  out  of  the 
rut.  It  is  easier  to  run  along — with  lessening,  momentum, 
it  may  be,  but  in  the  same  track — until  "  shunted  "  off  at  the 
first  station  or  "  turned  out "  when  there  happens  to  be  a 
switch  open. 

Shakspeare  told  the  story — as  he  did  most  of  the  tales 
over  the  spinning  of  which  out  of  our  own  brains  we  toil 
benightedly — in  the  fable  of  the  "little  western  flower," 
which  "  maidens  call,  Love-in-idleness  :  " 

"  The  herb  I  showed  thee  once. 
The  juice  of  it  on  sleeping  eyelids  laid, 
Will  make  or  man  or  woman  madly  dote 
Upon  the  next  live  creature  that  it  sees." 

Abstract  speculation  upon  the  theme  that  had  so  lately 
engrossed  my  every  waking  thought  was  the  utmost  license  I 
granted  imagination,  under  the  disciplinary  process  to  which 
I  subjected  errant  fancy  and  rebellious  heart. 

"  Are  you  displeased  ?  "  Ailsie  stopped  suddenly  and  ran 
back  to  me. 

"  My  love  !  what  a  question  !  Nothing  you  do  displeases 
me." 

"  You  looked  awfully  glum  ! "  slipping  her  hand  into  mine 
and  keeping  decorous  step  with  my  feet. 

"  I  was  thinking  what  a  quiet  old  husband  you  will  have 
when  we  are  married,  Ailsie." 

"  You  will  always  be  nice,"  she  replied,  confidently.  "  I 
don't  take  to  boys.  I  believe  I  have  an  antip — what-do-you- 


214  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

call-it  ? — to  them.  It  means  what  makes  you  keep  out  of 
their  way.  They  are  shocking  rude.  Some  of  them  are 
vulga-ra-rians.  'Least,  some  in  our  street.  New  Year's  Day 
they  tied  a  tin  pail  to  a  dog's  tail,  and  fastened  a  bag  tight 
over  a  poor  pussy's  head,  and  let  them  run.  It  was  abom- 
inationable.  I  don't  see  what  the  police  were  doing,  that 
they  weren't  'rested  and  locked  up  in  jail.  That's  one  good 
thing  about  a  sure-enough  man.  He  is  above  such  tricks." 

"  I  should  hope  so.     But  here  is  our  first  nut-grove." 

Her  eyes  enlarged,  then  kindled  into  laughter,  as  we  halted 
before  a  fruit-store.  I  pushed  open  the  door  and  led  her  in. 

There  were  dates,  preserved  in  their  own  candied  juices, 
packed  in  the  matting  bags  in  which  they  had  journeyed  over 
the  desert ;  oranges,  glowing  more  richly  golden  for  the  gray 
moss  embedding  them,  or  heaped  in  pyramids  higher  than 
our  heads  ;  apples  that  courted  sight,  taste,  and  smell ; 
white  grapes  in  kegs  and  hampers  ;  Naples  figs  and  guava 
jelly  ;  and,  on  one  side  of  the  long  counter,  such  wealth  of 
nuts  as  made  our  basket  seem  small  indeed. 

"  Not  too  many  of  one  kind  ! "  cautioned  Ailsie,  when  I 
began  my  purchases.  "  Else  there  won't  be  room  !  " 

I  was  shaking  the  basket  hard  to  make  space  for  some 
walnuts,  and  Ailsie  had  just  asked  indignantly,  in  answer  to 
information  I  had  furnished  : 

"  What  do  they  call  them  '  English  walnuts '  for,  if  they 
come  from  Persia  ?  "  when  a  musical  ripple  of  laughter  be- 
hind us  changed  my  blood  to  ice. 

"You  mustn't  believe  everything  in  this  world  to  be  what 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  215 

people  call  it,  my  dear !  "  said  tones  I  knew  by  heart,  even 
to  the  falling  inflection  of  the  sentence  that  was  both  coax- 
ing and  languid. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Haye  ?  "  continued  the  speaker. 
"  I  have  not  seen  you  in  an  age." 

She  offered  her  hand. 

I  lifted  my  hat,  without  the  pretense  of  not  seeing  that 
she  had  designed  a  more  friendly  salutation.  I  had  had  a 
surfeit  of  shams. 

She  looked  thunderstruck,  blushed  carnation,  and  with  a 
confused  murmur  turned  away  and  left  the  store. 

"We  can't  get  any  more  in  !"  regretted  Ailsie,  unobserv- 
ant of  the  episode,  pressing  with  all  her  weight  upon  the  lid 
of  the  halnper.  "  When  a  thing  is  full,  it  is  full.  That's  all 
there  is  about  it.  I'm  afraid  this  top  will  give  us  trouble. 
The  only  way  is  to  tie  the  top  very  tight  with  a  strong  string, 
when  the  basket  is  crammed  full.  If  you  don't — pop  !  off 
it  comes,  and  there's  a  spill  !" 

Wise  Ailsie  !  The  shopman  supplied  a  stout  twine,  and 
between  us  we  secured  the  untoward  cover. 

"  Now,  we'll  go  home  and  tell  Aunt  Evy  all  about  our 
nutting,"  said  my  companion,  cheerily. 

"  All !  "  It  was  an  inward  groan.  Was  I  likely  to  grieve 
the  tender  heart  that  had  "  adopted  "  me,  by  telling  her  that 
the  world  had  turned  upside  down,  reeled  and  shaken  until  I 
was  sick  with  the  unsteadiness,  as  the  beautiful  eyes  dilated 
with  astonishment,  and  were  dimmed  into  piteousness  under 
the  stern  gaze  of  mine  ?  how  that  incoherent  murmur  stabbed 


2 1 6  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

me  like  a  stiletto,  and  blackness  of  darkness  enveloped  me 
with  the  hasty  withdrawal  of  the  woman  I  was  learning  not 
to  love  ?  But  for  Ailsie's  interruption  of  the  current  of 
memory  and  thought,  I  think  I  should  have  pursued  the 
fleeting  figure  and  thrown  myself  upon  the  ground  to  sup- 
plicate pardon,  so  basely  cruel  did  my  reception  of  her 
advances  appear  to  my  conscience. 

"  We  will  go  now,"  I  said  hoarsely,  to  my  little  com- 
panion. 

She  followed,  instantly  and  mutely. 

In  the  street,  I  raised  my  hat  to  let  the  wind  reach  the 
top  of  my  head,  on  which  a  burning  hand  seemed  to  press 
with  weight  that  numbed  the  brain. 

"  Are  you  sick  ?  "  queried  Ailsie's  tender  voice.  "  We  will 
go  straight  home — won't  we  ?  " 

My  better  nature  rallied,  ashamed.  That  I  had  been 
knocked  off  my  feet  was  no  reason  why  her  excursion  should 
be  spoiled.  I  made  an  effort  at  gayety  that  must  have  been 
ghastly. 

"  The  nut-forest  was  a  warm  place,"  I  said,  affecting  to 
heave  a  sigh  of  oppression.  "  Threshing  down  chestnuts  is 
always  tiresome.  What  say  you  to  a  saucer  of  ice-cream 
before  we  turn  our  faces  homeward  ?  " 

What  does  any  child  say  to  ice-cream  at  any  and  all  times  ? 
Ailsie  looked  her  glad  assent,  and  in  three  minutes  we 
faced  one  another  across  a  marble-topped  table  ;  an  order 
for  two  creams,  a  charlotte  russe,  and  assorted  cakes 
was  in  the  waiter's  hands,  and  Ailsie's  wide,  gray  eyes 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  217 

were  busy  with  the  appointments  and  occupants  of  the, 
saloon. 

"I  wish  all  these  eating-places  wouldn't  smell  as  if  dinner 
was  just  over,  and  the  pots  and  kettles  and  plates  hadn't 
been  washed  yet,"  she  commented,  with  a  sniff.  "  It's  queer 
the  air  can't  be  sweet  and  clean  for  once.  But  this  is  a 
pretty  room.  Look  at  the  angels  on  the  ceiling.  Looks  as 
if  they  wouldn't  mind  coming  down  for  a  bite  themselves. 
Hard  on  them,  isn't  it,  to  be  pasted  flat  and  fast  when 
there's  so  many  good  things  going  on  down  here  ?  Isn't  that 
a  dear  little  girl  ?  Her  hair  is  like  silk-worms'  silk.  Aunt 
Evy  has  some.  I've  never  fancied  silk  dresses  since  she  told 
me  the  cocoons  had  to  be  baked  or  boiled  before  the  silk 
was  wound  off.  I  can't  help  thinking  when  I  see  a  particu- 
larly fat  lady  in  a  very  fine  silk  dress,  how  funny  she'd  feel 
to  be  caught  and  roasted  so's  some  monstracious  giant 
might  peel  off  her  clothes  to  make  frocks  for  his  little  girls' 
dolls.  Guess  she'd  let  silk-worms  alone  after  that ! " 

Societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals  were 
unknown  at  that  date,  but  Ailsie  was  a  whole  corporation — 
Berg,  Board,  and  Detectives,  in  herself.  Her  prattle  did  not 
amuse  me  now,  but  as  it  relieved  me  from  the  necessity  of 
speech  and  showed  that  she  was  adequate  to  her  own  enter- 
tainment, it  was  welcome. 

"  It  is  a  pity  some  people  will  look  so  much  like 
animals ! "  she  continued,  benevolently  compassionate. 
"  That  fat  gentleman  over  there  goes  by  our  house  every  day. 
There's  a  picture  in  my  Natural  History  of  a  seal  that  is  just 


2 1 8  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

him  over  again — mild,  and  sleepy,  and  puffy,  and  sleek. 
And  that  l)ig  man  with  white  whiskers  and  hair  standing 
every  which  way,  is  'spressly  like  a  papa  lion.  Its  a  nactual 
bother  to  me  that  a  lady  who  sits  across  the  aisle  from  us  in 
church  will  remind  me  of  a  walrus — tusks  and  all.  I  keep 
peeping  'round  in  church-time  to  see  if  they  are  so  very 
long  and  yellow.  I  carft  help — try  as  I  will.  I  sufl-pose 
she  can't  help  the  tusks  either.  There  is  Miss  Bessie  Barnes  ! 
She  is  coming  this  way.  I  do  hope  she  won't " 

She  got  no  further. 

A  swish  of  silk  skirts  ;  a  waft  of  violet  perfume ;  the 
gleam  of  rings  upon  an  ungloved  hand  on  the  back  of  an 
empty  chair  next  to  mine — and  Bessie  was  saying  : 

"  I  saw  you  come  in  here,  and  followed  you  purposely. 
May  I  sit  here  for  a  minute  until  I  have  said  what  I  have  to 
say  to  you  ?  " 

I  arose  dumbly,  drew  back  the  chair  that  she  might  seat 
herself,  and  resumed  mine. 

"  I  am  the  open  enemy  of  round-about  measures,"  she 
began.  "  I  am  here  to  ask  an  explanation  of  your  behavior 
of  late,  and  to  listen  to  your  defence." 

"  Please  be  explicit !  "  I  had  to  clear  my  throat  to  get 
out  the  three  words,  but  I  saw  that  she  had  helped  me,  in  the 
outset,  by  assuming  the  aggressive. 

"  With  pleasure  ;  I  always  speak  out  my  mind.  You 
have  never  been  near  me  since  the  noon  of  December  24th, 
nor  given  me  any  token  of  your  existence.  You  were  under 
an  engagement  to  come  to  me  the  next  day,  and  hear  my 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  219 

report  of  the  ball.  I  feel  very  much  disposed  to  tell  you 
what  explanation  I  had  of  your  non-appearance.  It  may  be 
the  part  of  a  friend  to  do  it.  And  I  am  still  your  friend, 
little  as  you  have  deserved  the  tide  of  mine.  The  report 
is  all  over  town.  It  ought  to  be  corrected,  or  smoothed 
down  in  some  way.  Fred  says  it  is  doing  you  harm.  You 
won't  be  offended  with  me  ?" 

"  Because  you  repeat  a  popular  rumor  ?  That  would  be 
unjust,  Miss  Barnes." 

Speech  was  becoming  easier. 

"  Miss  Barnes  ! "  she  echoed,  in  accents  of  pained  sur- 
prise. "  That  is  unjust — unkind — Barry  /  " 

The  word  was  scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper,  but  I 
clutched  the  edge  of  the  marble  slab  hardly  colder  than  my 
hand,  to  keep  myself  from  visible  trembling. 

Failing  any  answer  to  her  appeal,  she  took  up  the  thread 
of  her  story. 

"  Papa  was  in  somebody's  office  down-town,  the  other 
day,  when  six  or  eight  gentlemen  were  discussing  this  odd 
tale,  this  '  popular  rumor  about  you.'  It  was  directly 
asserted  that  you  had  fallen  into  dissipated  habits,  that  you 
were  often  seen  intoxicated  in  the  streets,  and  had  been 
picked  up,  dead  drunk,  out  of  the  gutter  on  the  afternoon  of 
Christmas  Day,  in  one  of  the  most  disreputable  quarters  of 
the  town,  and  taken  to  the  station  for  the  night.  I  tell  you 
this  because " 

"  OH  !  OH  !  OH  ! "  Ailsie  sprang  to  her  feet  on  the  other 
side  of  the  narrow  table,  striking  both  clenched  hands  upon  it. 


220  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

Her  face  was  absolutely  livid  with  anger,  her  voice  a 
shrill  whisper,  but  as  audible  to  us  as  if  she  had  shrieked. 

"  That,  is,  the,  very,  worstest,  story,  anybody,  ever,  told  ! " 
slowly,  with  a  blow  of  the  fist  on  the  marble  for  every 
comma.  "  Ever  so  many  times  wickeder  than  the  one  that 
horrid  Mr.  Gaskintold  in  papa's  office,  when  your  father 
and  another  man  were  there — and  nobody  else  !  No  '  six 
or  eight  gentlemen'  about  it !  And  that  was  bad  as  could 
be.  I  wish  he  and  his  potatoes  and  cabbages  and  his  moth- 
er's tomb-stone  had  gone  to  the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea 
along  with  Pharaoh's  chariots  before  he  had  a  chance  to  say 
such  things.  But  he  only  declared  that  Mr.  Barry  was  loaf- 
ing about  the  docks  on  Christmas-Day,  and  had  been  drink- 
ing  " 

"  My  child !  wasn't  that  what  I  said?" 

Thus  Bessie,  sweetly,  eyeing  the  excited  creature  as  she 
might  a  monkey. 

"  You  said  ever  so  much  more  !  They  thought  I  was 
asleep  on  the  sofa  in  Aunt  Evy's  room,  when  papa  was  tell- 
ing her  and  mamma  about  it.  But  Mr.  Barry's  name  woke 
me,  of  course,  and  I  jumped  right  up,  and  said  it  was  a 
'famous  lie,  from  beginning  to  bottom,  and  how  my  dear 
Mr.  Barry  was  with  me,  all  the  afternoon, — and  wasn't  I 
sitting  on  his  knee,  and  close  by  him,  for  ever  so  many  hours, 
and  his  breath  wasn't  a  bit  liquory?  and  wouldn't  I  have 
noticed  it,  the  first  thing,  when  I'm  'fraid  to  death  of  tipsy- 
ers  ?  And  how  he  read  my  '  Ancient  Mari-ner-er,'  all 
through  and  never  missed  a  word,  nor  stuttered  once,  and 


MY  LITTLE  LO VE.  221 

we  had  the  soci^^/est  tea-party  ever  was,  and  he  was  so 
hungry  and  enjoyed  two  cups  of  tea,  and  we  had  a  long  talk 
afterward  ?  and  how  nice  and  lovely  he  was  ? 

"  So  papa  said  to  mamma — '  Ezra  was  mistaken,  my 
dear.  I  would  take  Ailsie's  word  before  his  any  day  !' 

"  Because  mine  was  the  straight  truth,  you  see.  And  we 
settled  it,  at  home,  that  not  a  breath  should  be  said  to  you, 
Mr.  Barry,  for  fear  of  hurting  your  feelings — and  here  comes 
this  wicked  woman  and  blabs  I  I  think  you  must  be  as  bad 
as  Jezebel  and  Ath-er-liah  and  that  poisonous  Cretia  Borger  I 
read  about  in  a  book.  I'm  shamed  and  'stonished  at  you  ! " 

Despite  indignation  and  heart-ache,  I  had  much  ado  to 
keep  from  smiling. 

"  Ailsie  !"  I  said,  gently,  "you  don't  know  what  you  are 
saying,  dear  !  Sit  down,  quietly.  You  and  I  will  settle  all 
this  when  we  get  home.  I  thank  you  for  believing  in  me 
and  saying  so.  I  need  not  take  the  pains,  Miss  Barnes,  now 
that  you  have  heard  my  alibi  proved,  to  assure  you  that  I 
did  not  spend  Christmas -night  in  the  station-house.  As  for 
your  accusation  that  I  have  not  been  near  you  since  noon 
on  December  24th,  it  is  as  groundless  as  the  charge  of  in- 
toxication. I  was  so  near  you  as  you  stood  on  the  balcony 
of  the  ball-room  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  that  night 
that  a  japonica  fell  from  your  bouquet  into  my  hand.  So 
near  that  I  heard  every  word  you  said — you  and  your  escort. 
You  require  no  other  'defence,'  I  take  it,  of  the  cessation 
of  my  visits.  Ailsie  !  there  is  your  ice-cream.  Eat  it,  and 
we  will  leave  this  unpleasant  subject." 


222  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

The  poor  child  tried  to  obey.  Her  features  were  rigid, 
and  her  throat  contracted  with  the  first  mouthful. 

"I  can't  swallow!"  she  said.  "Mayn't  we  please  go 
home  ?  " 

Bessie  laughed,  as  musically  as  if  we  had  been  flattering 
her  all  this  while.  There  must  have  been  some  drops  of  game 
blood  in  her  cool  veins. 

"Frankness  between  friends  is  always  delightful.  Moi,  je 
T  adore  I "  she  observed,  rising,  and  drawing  up  the  furs  she 
had  loosened  in  the  warm  room.  "  I  could  stay  longer  to 
enjoy  it,  but  I  perceive  that  I  am  interfering  with  your  duties 
as  nursery-governor.  I  hope  you  will  succeed  in  coaxing 
the  interesting  infant  to  take  her  food.  Shall  I  inquire  if 
there  is  a  pap-spoon  in  the  establishment  ?  Au  revoir  /  I 
don't  like  adieu — ever.  And  we  shall  be  glad  to  see  you 
whenever  professional  engagements  allow  you  to  call.  By- 
by,  Ailsie,  pet !  Love  to  Aunt  Evy  !  " 

And  thus  my  first  love  went  out  of  my  life. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BLESSED    ST.    VALENTINE. 

'Y  OWN  DEAR  MR.  BARRY  : 

"  On  the  1 3th  of  February,  we — Lou  and  I — 
(Lou  is  my  cousin,  Uncle  Richard's  daughter, 
and  is  staying  with  me) — Lou  and  I  sent  off  a 
good  many  valentines.     That  night  we  went  to 
bed  a  little  excited,  for  the  next  morning  we  were 
to  sing  the  charm,  and  who  could  tell  what  might 
happen  ?      But   once   asleep,    I    slumbered    late. 
When  I  did  awake,  Lou,  who  is  an  early  bird,  was 
almost  dressed.     After  I  was  ready,  we  opened  the 
window,  cold  as  it  was — and  sang — 

'  Blessed  St.  Valentine  !  now  while  I  look, 
Open  the  page  of  the  Future's  sealed  book  ; 
Blessed  St.  Valentine  !  show  unto  me 
He  who  in  future  my  true  love  shall  be  1 ' 

"  And  whom  do  you  suppose  we  saw  ?  It  was  just  sunrise, 
and  the  snow  was  all  pink,  and  not  a  soul  was  in  the  street 
but  one  old  shabby  man — the  forlornest  spectacle  !  Next 
came  an  old  woman  scratching  in  the  ash-barrels  for  bits  of 
coal.  We  shut  the  window,  and  agreed  that  that  charm 


224  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

went  for  nothing.  The  postman  was  late  that  morning.  He 
always  is  when  other  people  are  in  a  hurry.  After  watching 
a  long  time  for  him  we  had  to  go  to  our  lessons,  without  a 
single  valentine.  After  lessons  we  ran  out  to  play.  Nellie 
Brant  was  on  her  stoop,  and  we  invited  her  to  coast  with 
us  in  our  back-yard.  We  coasted  awhile,  and  it  was  twelve 
o'clock  when  the  postman  appeared  with  just  one,  single, 
lonely,  none-too-pretty  valentine  for  Lou.  Coasting  was 
better  fun  than  that,  and  back  to  it  we  went.  Mamie  Brant, 
Nellie's  little  sister,  liked  it  so  much  that,  when  her  dinner 
was  ready,  she  wouldn't  go  in  to  it,  and  the  nurse  had  to 
come  out  and  carry  her  in.  She  yelled  like  a  young  wild 
Indian,  all  the  way.  After  our  dinner  mamma  took  all  us 
children  out  in  the  sleigh.  We  had  a  jolly  ride  and  almost 
forgot  our  disappointment  about  the  tiresome  valentines  that 
wouldn't  come.  When  we  got  home  we  were  quite  surprised 
to  find  some  waiting  for  us.  If  you  had  been  in  America  I 
would  not  have  had  to  wait  so  long.  Two  more  came  after 
supper,  one  for  Lou,  one  for  me.  It  was  not  difficult  to  get 
the  door-bell  answered  that  day.  Sometimes  it  was  a  visitor 
for  mamma,  sometimes  it  was  a  beggar,  sometimes  only  a 
man  to  ask  where  Mr.  Somebody  Else  lived.  But  we  all 
three — for  Robby  was  as  full  of  it  as  we  were — ran  into  the 
front  hall  at  once,  which  wasn't  according  to  Etiquet.  After 
supper,  the  bell  kept  up  a  continual  jingle.  Once,  Mary 
went  to  the  door  and  saw  what  she  supposed  was  a  valen- 
tine lying  on  the  stoop,  and  as  she  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  she 
heard  some  one  snicker  around  the  corner.  She  did  not  feel 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  225 

very  amiable  when  she  found  out  what  it  was.  Some  one 
had  chalked  a  little  square,  just  the  shape  of  a  letter,  on  the 
floor! 

"By-and-by  the  bell  rang,  and  behold  but  a  small  dog,  with 
cut  ears  and  a  stumpy  tail  who  walked  into  the  hall,  looked 
around  him  very  gravely,  and  then  walked  out  again. 

"  This  finished  the  list  of  our  valentines. 

"  Do  you  keep  Valentine's  Day  in  Paris? 

"  I  do  want  to  see  you  horribly  I 

"  Your  dear  little  AILSIE." 

It  had  come  all  the  way  across  the  salt  ocean — this  sheet 
of  Bath  post,  filled  in  every  corner  with  the  childish  charac- 
ters that  already  began  to  take  the  stamp  of  the  writer's 
strong  individuality — had  travelled  a  thousand  leagues  to 
tell  me  about  St.  Valentine's  Day. 

Only  that !  And  having  said  her  say,  my  little  love  had 
rested  from  her  labors  of  the  pen  that  must  have  cramped 
the  small  fingers  sadly  by  the  time  the  bottom  of  the  fourth 
page  was  gained.  I  read  the  letter  through  again  with  a 
smile  that  was  loving  and  longing.  Ailsie's  eyes  looked  up 
at  me  in  every  sentence — grave,  direct,  honest,  and  tender. 
Not  a  line  of  conventional  compliment  or  apology  broke 
the  current  of  the  narrative  save  where  her  faithful  love  for 
my  too-unworthy  self  came  to  the  surface  in  the  simple — "  If 
you  had  been  in  America,  I  should  not  have  had  to  wait  so 
long  !  "  and  the  concluding  paragraph  of  the  epistle  signed 
by  my  "  dear  little  Ailsie."  She  never  questioned  it.  At 
the  antipodes,  I  must  still  have  thought  of  and  loved  her 
10* 


226  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

because  she  was  Ailsie,  and  I,  her  "  own  dear  Mr.  Barry." 
She  wrote  to  me  every  month,  and  my  replies  were  as  regu- 
lar. Whatever  interested  her  could  not  be  dull  to  me  in  the 
heart  of  Paris,  dividing  my  time  between  the  lecture-room 
and  the  wards  of  a  hospital. 

I  had  been  abroad  six  months.  I  was  to  stay  but  a  year 
in  all — so  my  stepmother  and  father  had  decided.  I  was 
working  very  hard,  my  spirits  none  the  better  for  the  attempt 
to  crowd  the  work  of  three  terms  into  one.  I  had  a  quar- 
terly bulletin  and  remittance  from  home.  About  as  often, 
Madge,  who  was  making  up  her  trousseau,  entrusted  me 
with  an  order  for  laces.  Other  correspondents  in  my  native 
land  I  had  none,  always  excepting  Aunt  Evy  and  Ailsie.  I 
had  had  letters  from  both  on  the  windy  March  night  when  I 
sat  in  my  ten-by-ten  apartment  au  quinzieme — before  a 
handful  of  charcoal  in  the  tiny  grate,  and  pictured  to  myself 
the  home-comfort  of  the  "Innermost"  chamber,  where  the 
invalid  was,  perchance,  reading  one  of  the  lovely  books  that 
seemed  to  gravitate  to  her  by  a  natural  law  of  affinities,  or 
thinking  her  own  lovelier  thoughts,  with  closed  lids,  folded 
hands,  and  peacefully  smiling  lips,  as  I  had  seen  her  a 
hundred  times  while  I  talked  with  other  members  of  the 
family.  Where  Ailsie  might,  at  this  very  moment,  be  writing 
another  letter  to  me.  A  serious  matter  she  made  of  the 
manipulation,  I  knew  from  Aunt  Evy's  descriptions  of  her 
when  thus  engaged. 

"Her  wrestles  with  the  spelling,  and  what  she  anathe- 
matizes as  the  '  nonsensible  capital  letters,'  are  heart-rend- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  227 

ing  to  behold,"  said  the  letter  that  accompanied  my  valen- 
tine. "The  brain-work  is  a  delight.  She  confided  to  me 
the  other  day  her  intention  to  '  write  stories — beautiful 
ones — and  bushels  of  poetry '  when  she  should  be  a  woman. 

"  '  My  head  is  full  of  them,'  she  added.  'I  can't  sleep, 
at  night,  for  them,  sometimes — I  am  so  afraid  I  may  forget 
the  best  of  them  before  I  can  write  them  down.' 

"  '  Why  not  put  them  upon  paper,  now  ? '  I  asked,  some- 
what curious  to  see  of  what  complexion  these  beauties 
might  be. 

"  The  dear  little  thing  blushed  suddenly — (you  remember 
the  trick  !)  and  fumbled  with  the  corner  of  her  apron,  eyes 
downcast.  Her  lip  curled  like  a  baby's  with  the  confession 
— 'Because,  Aunt  Evy,  they're  not  spelled.1 

"  The  blessed  infant !  But  there  is  a  moral  and  a  com- 
fort in  the  incident  for  us  'grown-upper  children,'  as  she 
used  to  name  you  and  me  when  we  were  merry  together. 
These  half-fledged  hopes  and  delicate  fancies,  and  always 
restless,  but,  as  yet,  not-to  be-defined  yearnings  of  yours 
and  mine,  Barry,  what  are  they  but  the  unspelled  stories  we 
shall  as  certainly  grow  into  and  become  a  part  of  in  that 
Other  Life,  as  our  innocent  pet  will  learn  to  write  out  her 
'  beautiful  things  ?  ' 

"  I  do  not  say,  apropos  de  bottes,  nor  apropos  to  anything 
I  have  been  thinking  of,  but  because  it  comes  into  my  head 
just  here — that  Bessie  Barnes  was  married,  last  week,  to  Mr. 
Campion,  of  Philadelphia.  It  is  an  engagement  of  long 
standing,  say  her  friends.  It  is  not  for  acquaintances  to 


228  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

contradict  it.  But  pretty  Bessie  had  her  swing  of  admiration 
not  to  hint  at  flirtations,  more  or  less  serious,  during  the 
alleged  term  of  betrothment.  You  were  very  reticent 
touching  the  scene  between  you,  Miss  Barnes,  and  Ailsie,  in 
the  ice-cream  saloon,  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  Ailsie  was 
dumb  as  the  tomb,  so  I  said  nothing  at  the  time  of  Bessie's 
visit  to  me,  a  few  days  later,  and  what  she  styled  her  '  con- 
fession.' She  '  admitted  that  she  might  have  given  Mr. 
Haye  cause  to  misconstrue  her  sisterly  interest  in  one  so 
interesting  as  himself;  regretted  the  accidental  misappre- 
hension that  had  cost  her  your  friendship,  and  especially 
that  you  had  so  far  mistaken  (a  bevy  of  '  misses '  you  see  ! ) 
her  well-meant  efforts  to  clear  your  reputation  by  possessing 
herself  of  the  facts  with  regard  to  your  misconduct  on 
Christmas  Day,  as  to  lose  (or  mislay  ? )  your  temper  in  dis- 
cussing the  circumstance,  and  to  incite  Ailsie  to  violent 
language.' 

"  She  made  the  explanation  to  me,  presuming  that  I 
had  had  your  version — and  Ailsie's — of  the  interview.  I 
convinced  her  of  her  error,  and  she  begged  that  the  matter 
might  drop,  '  unless  a  favorable  opportunity  should  present 
itself  to  right  her  in  your  esteem.  It  was  exquisitely  pain- 
ful,' etc.,  etc. 

"  Having  freed  my  mind  to  the  extent  of  the  above  state- 
ment, we  will  follow  Mrs.  Campion's  example  and  drop  the 
matter.  She  dropped  hearts  with  less  compunction  than 
she  did  japonicas.  You  deserve  a  better  wife — a  truer, 
worthier,  deeper-hearted  woman — than  she  would  have  been 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  229 

to  you  or  any  man.     In  the  Father's  own  good  time — and 
all  his  times  are  good — He  will  give  her  to  you. 

"  Ailsie  would  deem  this  prophecy  high  treason,  but  she 
will  have  forgotten  your  claims  in  dreams  of  the  coming 
Prince,  by  then." 

It  was  inevitable  that  this  letter  should  set  me  to  thinking. 
It  may  have  been  the  droning,  like  that  of  a  sinking  top,  of 
the  March  wind  at  my  high  casement,  or  the  blink  of  the  dull, 
red  eye  in  the  grate,  which  seemed,  all  the  while,  on  the 
point  of  shutting  up  entirely,  that  overcast  my  reverie  with 
a  shade  of  melancholy. 

I  did  not  grieve — I  did  not  care — that  Bessie  was  married. 
Having  seen  her  mask  down  once,  her  power  over  me  was 
destined  to  die  speedily,  and,  on  the  whole,  easily.  Nor  was 
I  sorry  that,  measuring  myself  to-night  with  the  love-mad- 
dened boy  of  fourteen  months  agone,  I  saw,  as  I  had  never 
seen  before,  how  I  had  grown  away  from  those  days.  But  in 
awakening  from  that  dream  of  a  week,  I  had  parted  with 
something  that  was  not  Bessie,  nor  the  hope  of  winning  her 
for  my  own.  I  grudged  the  loss  of  the  possibility  of  ever 
trusting  again,  as  1  had  confided  the  hopes  of  time  and  eter- 
nity to  one  who  toyed  with  hearts  as  with  bubbles  whose  end 
is  to  be  broken  and  not  lamented.  I  could  have  laid  my 
head  in  my  hands  and  wept  for  the  woman  who  had  never 
lived  ; — the  Ideal  that  had,  in  truth,  so  little  in  common  with 
the  comely,  well-fed  creature  who  had  sat  at  her  ease,  on  the 
leaf-brown  satin  throne  during  the  December  evenings  which 
separated  boyhood  from  manhood,  that  nothing  but  the 


230  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

haste  and  hot  blood  of  youth  could  palliate  the  blunder  I 
had  made. 

I  was  lonely  and  low-spirited.  Still  too  young  to  love 
work  for  work's  sake,  and,  as  I  know  now,  singularly  free  from 
the  vicious  proclivities  and  the  indulgences  in  which  the 
majority  of  my  fellows,  of  whatever  nationality,  regarded  as 
pardonable  if  not  legitimate  relaxation  from  severe  study,  I 
was.  out  of  class  and  hospital,  as  solitary  as  if  Paris  had  been 
a  desert.  It  was  no  light  sin  to  rob  a  single-hearted,  dreamy 
boy  of  an  imagination  that  had  typified  so  much — how  much, 
I  could  only  judge  from  the  void  it  had  left. 

"  Heaven  forgive  her,"  I  said  aloud.  And  "  Thank 
Heaven  for  one  true-hearted  woman  and  the  leal  little  friend 
who  '  misses  me  horribly.'  Lily  and  Snowdrop  !  The 
bosom  that  wears  them  should  be  pure  !  " 

I  raised  the  letters  to  lips  that  had  known  few  kisses  of 
mother  or  sister.  Both  were  answered  before  I  addressed 
myself  to  toil  that  wore  far  into  the  morning  hours. 

When  I  slept,  my  dreams  were  of  aunt  and  niece — not 
once  of  Mrs.  Campion — nee  Barnes. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

HOME. 

=5  Y  BLESSED  MR.  BARRY  : 

"  I  promised,  in  my  last,  to  give  you  a  full 
description  of  the  summer  home  papa  has 
bought  for  us.  We  have  been  here  three 
months.  It  is  quite  in  the  mountains,  although 
but  three  miles  from  grandpa's.  Mamma  named 
it  Brightwood,  because  the  sun  seems  to  shine 
brighter  here  than  anywhere  else.  The  lawn  is  a 
peninsula,  and  it  is  about  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  house  to  the  lake  on  three  sides.  There  are  dogs  and 
pigs  and  cows  and  sheep  and  rabbits,  and  no  end  of  chickens 
and  ducks. 

"  Sometimes  the  ducks  get  drowned,  which  strikes  me  as 
extremely  remarkable. 

"  I  never  liked  a  house  more  than  I  do  this.  It  is  three 
stories  high,  with  an  eddition  on  one  side.  In  this  are  the 
kitchen,  laundry,  and  wood-house.  I  have  a  room  of  my 
own  in  the  third-story,  with  a  balcony,  where,  on  hot  nights, 
I  lay  my  pillows  to  cool,  and,  like  our  Kathleen,  '  look  at 
the  moon,'  and  the  stars,  and  have  the  deliciousest  thinking- 
times,  all  to  myself.  A  piazza  runs  on  two  sides  of  the 


232  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

house  and  there  is  a  porch  at  the  back.  Behind  it  are  the 
woods,  the  carriage -road  winding  through  them. 

"  The  poultry-yard  is  the  greatest  novelty.  So  Robby 
thinks,  for  he  is  there  half  the  day,  with  his  apron  full  of 
corn.  The  barn  is  the  most  splendid  place  to  play  '  tit-tat ' 
in.  We  burrow  tunnels  through  the  hay,  and  come  out,  at 
the  other  end,  all  covered  with  straw  and  dust.  There  are 
enough  crooked  trees  on  the  lawn  to  set  up  a  curiosity-shop. 

"  By  the  way,  Aunt  Evy  and  I  have  just  finished  that  book. 
Dear  little  Nell's  death  is  the  heart-achingest  thing  I  ever 
read. 

"  One  tree  is  just  like  a  horse.  Mamma  gave  me  an  old 
skirt  of  hers  for  a  riding  habit,  and  I  mount,  whip  in  hand, 
and  play  horse-back.  I  like  to  climb  upon  the  roof  of  the 
pig-pen,  only  the  pigs  run  out  when  they  hear  me,  and  stand 
up  on  their  hind  legs  and  try  to  rub  me  with  their  noses. 
Pigs  are  amusing,  but  not  clean  enough  for  playmates. 

"Robby  and  I  are  fond  of  making  toad-stool  pudding,  but 
we  never  ( taste  our  wares.'  -It  is  so  funny  to  see  the  bull- 
frogs in  the  water ! 

"  It  is  very  different  from  town,  here,  in  the  afternoons. 
Instead  of  playing  in  the  dusty  streets,  dressed  up  in  our 
next-to-best  clothes,  or  staying  in-doors  until  sundown  when 
there's  no  chance  for  fun,  we  go  up  to  the  woods  directly 
after  breakfast  and  dinner  and  make  fortresses  and  have 
picnics  and  play  tales — mostly  fairy  stories,  or  sit  about  on 
:the  rocks  in  the  cool  shade  and  read. 

"  One  day  papa  and  my  cousin  Rick  took  Robby  and  me 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  233 

to  help  gather  wild  cherries.  And  this  is  how  we  helped. 
They  climbed  the  tree,  and  Robby  and  I  stayed  underneath 
and  ate  the  cherries  fast  as  they  fell.  We  were  so  stained  up 
when  we  got  home  that  we  could  not  get  our  faces  and  hands 
clean  that  day,  and  the  stains  have  not  come  out  of  my 
dress  and  apron  to  this  day.  But  what  else  could  you  expect  ? 

"  Papa  and  I  take  glorious  walks.  Sometimes  up  in  the 
mountains  and  down  into  Pine  Hollow,  where  it  is  dark  as 
a  pocket.  Now  that  the  Fall  has  come  the  leaves  have 
changed.  Red,  yellow,  brown,  gray,  purple — every  color 
but  black  and  blue — almost.  The  maple  woods  look  as  if 
they  were  afire.  Some  nights  the  winds  whistle  around  the 
house,  and  the  rain  not  only  lulls  the  little  children  to  sleep, 
but  brings  down  the  chestnuts  and  butternuts,  and  hickory- 
nuts.  And  don't  we  have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning  to 
gather  them  before  the  greedy  squirrels  get  their  share  and 
ours  too  ? 

"  We  eat  our  nuts  sometimes  before  they  are  dry,  and  get 
sore  mouths  by  it,  which  ought  to  teach  us  better  next  time, 
but  doesn't. 

"  I  have  a  flower-bed.  So  has  Robby.  Take  it  altogether, 
Brightwood  is  heaven  on  earth. 

"  I  wish  you  were  here.     That  is  all  I  lack  to  make  me 

supremely  happy. 

"  Your  dear  little  AILSIE." 

Around  this  letter  was  wrapped  a  half-sheet  of  paper  on 
which  Aunt  Evy  had  written  : 

"  I  have  just  heard  that  you  are  expected  home  by  the 


234  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

next  steamer.  Therefore,  instead  of  sending  the  enclosed  to 
your  foreign  address,  I  shall  direct  it  to  your  father's  care. 
We  do  not  think  it  best  to  let  Ailsie  know  that  you  may  be 
so  near  lest  her  impatience  should  outrun  your  convenience. 
You  know  how  warm  will  be  your  welcome  from  us  all,  come 
when  you  may.  But  we  must  not  forget  that  others  have 
claims  which  they  will  not  be  disposed  to  forego  after  so 
long  a  separation.  Do  not  forget,  however,  that  our  home, 
in  town  or  country,  must  ever  be  yours  for  the  seeking. 

Affy,  E.  L.  MARR." 

The  claims  of  home  and  kindred !  I  smiled  bitterly  in 
reading  of  them. 

Madge  and  her  husband  had  dined  at  our  father's  on  the 
day  of  my  return.  My  step-mother  had  provided  a  bounti- 
ful and  well-cooked  repast.  We  were  not  a  sentimental  family, 
and  the  talk  at  table  rambled  from  sea-sickness,  foreign  hotels, 
and  the  comparative  merits  of  various  ocean  steamers,  to 
American  politics  and  the  state  of  the  stock-market. 
Nobody  thought  to  drink  my  health  at  dessert.  My  step- 
mother barely  tolerated  the  introduction  of  the  decanters  at 
any  time,  and  would  have  regarded  toasts  as  an  expensive 
and  senseless  ceremony.  After  dinner,  for  appearance  sake 
we  maintained  a  spasmodic  conversation,  endeavoring,  with 
indifferent  success,  not  to  yawn  in  one  another's  faces,  until 
Madge  reminded  her  lord  that  they  had  an  evening  engage- 
ment. My  father,  sighing  his  relief  after  their  departure, 
helped  himself  to  one  newspaper,  and  me  to  another,  and 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  235 

we  sat  down,  on  opposite  sides  of  the  centre-table,  to  read 
the  evening  news.  My  step-mother  disappeared  in  the  direc- 
tion of  dining-room  and  pantries,  and  I  saw  her  no  more 
that  night. 

We  retired  early.  My  father  supposed  and  said  that  I 
must  be  weary  after  my  voyage  and  would  be  glad  to  get 
into  a  Christian  bed  once  more.  I  thought  and  did  not  say 
that  he  was  more  weary  of  the  formal  welcome-making  than 
I  of  the  sea,  and  that  the  effort  to  "  do  "  the  gratified  parent 
had  worn  hardly  upon  his  invention  and  patience.  No  !  we 
were  decidedly  not  an  "  effusive "  family.  I  had  known  it 
for  so  long  that  I  ought  not  to  have  been  kept  awake  by  a 
dull,  dreary  pain  in  the  region  of  the  heart. 

From  the  date  of  my  father's  second  marriage,  I  had 
understood  that  the  omission  of  censure  signified  with  him  a 
reasonable  degree  of  satisfaction  with  what  I  said  or  did.  He 
was  never  otherwise  than  reasonable,  and  I  should  have  re- 
sembled him  if  I  would  have  avoided  disappointment.  There 
was  no  necessity  that  he,  or  Madge,  or  my  step-mother, 
should  tell  me  that  my  return  had  brightened  life  for  one  or 
all  of  them ; — that  they  had  thought  of  me  longingly  and 
prayed  for  me  with  faith  and  desire  that  I  might  quit  myself 
like  a  man  and  bring  happiness,  with  credit,  to  the  old  home. 
J  ought  to  have  taken  these  things  and  much  more  for 
granted.  That  I  did  not,  was  selfish  and  childish. 

Nevertheless,  as  I  stood  by  my  open  window,  too  restless 
to  think  of  wooing  sleep,  and  breathed  the  soft  October  air, 
pure  and  sweet,  even  in  city  streets,  I  was  as  homesick  as 


236  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

upon  that  sighing  March  night  when  I  read  Ailsie's  story  of 
St.  Valentine's  Day  in  my  Paris  attic.  Gratitude  for  nega- 
tive mercies  does  not  spring  spontaneously  in  the  breasts  of 
the  best  men,  and  I  was  so  many  removes  from  this  degree  of 
excellence  as  to  regret,  in  my  gloomy  musings,  that  I  had  not 
emulated  the  example  of  my  associates  and  sowed  a  mode- 
rate crop  of  wild  oats,  in  the  gay  capital,  instead  of  remain- 
ing virtuous  and  wearing  myself  thin  with  unappreciated  toil. 
I  had  won  honors  at  the  competitive  examinations  ;  had 
kept  my  expenses  within  my  allowance,  contracted  no  disre- 
putable habits  and  no  inconvenient  intimacies,  and  I  called 
myself  a  "  spooney,"  "  a  muff,"  and  "  a  greenhorn,"  for  it  all, 
so  harsh  were  the  ashes  of  disappointment  between  my 
teeth. 

In  this  mood,  I  espied  a  sealed  letter,  set  endwise  upon 
the  mantel.  Nobody  had  thought  to  mention  its  arrival. 
More  taking  for  granted  !  The  student  of  the  ways  and 
means  of  the  Haye  household  would  have  been  amazed  at 
learning  how  superfluous — judging  from  our  practice — were 
most  of  the  precautions  and  amenities  prevalent  among 
"sentimental"  people. 

I  have  said  that  I  smiled  in  bitterness  in  perusing  Aunt 
Evy's  postscript,  in  the  rehearsal  of  the  incidents  of  my 
"Home  Again"  dinner.  My  smile  over  Ailsie's  "full  de- 
scription "  of  their  country  home  outlingered  the  sneer.  I 
yearned  for  a  sight  of  the  starry  eyes  and  the  dear  little 
brown  face.  She  wanted  me.  I  would  make  her  "  supreme- 
ly happy  "  before  I  was  twenty-four  hours  older. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  237 

I  packed  my  valise  for  Brightwood  within  the  hour. 

"  Off  already  ! "  ejaculated  my  step-mother,  when  I  made 
known  my  resolve  over  my  breakfast-cup  of  coffee.  "  Really 
I  must  say " 

She  compressed  her  lips  to  a  hairline,  and  resisted  neces- 
sity itself. 

"  I  hope,  Barry,  you  have  not  fallen  into  unsettled,  roving 
ways  abroad  ?  "  subjoined  my  father. 

"  We  will  let  the  future  settle  that  question,  sir,"  I  replied, 
respectfully.  "  For  the  present,  I  should  like  to  have  a  taste 
of  country  air  and  enjoy  a  glimpse  of  an  American  autumn, 
before  tying  myself  down  to  the  winter's  work." 

"  You  do  look  rather  jaded,"  concluded  the  senior,  inspect- 
ing me  narrowly  ;  "  I  thought  last  night  it  might  be  the  effect 
of  sea-sickness,  but  I  see  it  hasn't  worn  off." 

"  It  is  the  blase  look  of  most  young  students — medical 
students,  in  particular — of  this  generation,"  said  my  admir- 
able step- mother,  in  her  saltiest  manner. 

"  If  you  object,  sir,  I  will  relinquish  the  plan,"  I  said, 
yet  more  dutifully,  to  my  real  parent,  ignoring  the  side- 
thrust. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !  You  are  your  own  master,  now. 
But  when  you  come  back  I  trust  I  shall  see  you  apply  your- 
self steadily  to  business." 

I  ran  into  Madge's  house,  on  my  way  to  the  stage-office, 
to  say  "  Good  bye,"  and  explain  my  need  of  mountain-air 
and  quiet. 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  quitting  Castle  Doleful  by  the 


238  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

earliest  train,"  she  assured  me.  "  While  Aleck  and  I  were 
there  we  contrived  in  one  way  and  another,  to  keep  the  air 
stirring.  Since  he  went  South  and  I  got  married  it  has  been 
a  dead  calm,  and  a  cloudy  one  most  of  the  time.  You  know 
that  Clarine  Darling  was  married  last  winter — don't  you  ? 
It's  queer  you  should  care  to  run  in  that  direction  after  Paris 
life.  It  is  out-and-out  country  where  the  Darlings  live,  and 
no  ladies  to  entertain  you  except  a  married  woman,  who  will 
be  a  grandmother  soon,  and  an  old  maid.  But  you  never 
were  like  other  people.  It  will  be  just  your  luck  to  live 
and  die  a  bachelor." 

I  had  not  deceived  myself  with  the  notion  that  my 
unflattering  flight  would  wound  or  offend  my  affectionate 
relatives.  I  was  but  a  paltry  fraction  in  the  sum  of  their 
existence.  I  hankered — a  burning  thirst  that  increased 
hourly — to  be  with  those  to  whom  my  absence  had  made 
some  "difference;"  for  whom  my  arrival  would  rise  into  the 
dignity  of  an  event. 

"  Barry  always  did  like  to  be  made  much  of,  "  my  step- 
parent had  once  remarked  severely. 

I  would  not  have  denied  it  to-day.  I  had  been  a  nobody 
in  a  crowd  of  strangers  for  a  year.  If  somebody  did  not 
begin  to  make  much  of  me  soon  I  should  be  in  danger  of 
losing  my  individuality  outright. 

I  was  not  socially  disposed  during  the  thirty-mile  ride  on 
the  top  of  the  coach.  I  smoked  cigarettes  by  the  dozen ; 
drew  lazy  enjoyment  from  the  beauty  of  the  day  and  the 
scenery,  and  thought  out  an  article  upon  neuralgic  as  con- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  239 

tradistinguished  from  rheumatic  affections,  to  keep  down  im- 
patience at  the  length  of  the  journey. 

The  highway  was  half-a-mile  from  Brightwood  by  the 
nearest  approach,  and  at  this  point  I  was  set  down,  with 
directions  from  the  driver  to  follow  the  disused  cart-road 
through  the  woods  as  my  shortest  route.  The  ruts  cut  by 
the  winter's  hauling  were  overgrown  with  grass  and  wild- 
flowers.  Sumach  bushes,  whose  leaves  were  blood-tipped 
lances  of  flame,  upbore  cones  of  maroon  velvet,  and  plumes 
of  golden-rod  waved  up  to  my  elbow  as  I  put  aside  the 
underbrush.  Once,  a  brace  of  quails  whirred  from  under  my 
feet.  Overhead,  the  trees  met  and  linked  arms.  The  air 
was  delicious  with  the  nutty  fragrance  never  distilled  except 
in  hickory  woods  by  October  sunshine. 

In  less  than  a  brief  half-hour  I  should  hold  my  little  love 
in  my  arms,  and  hear  her  say  that  the  lacking  element  of 
perfect  bliss  at  Brightwood,  the  heavenly,  was  supplied  by 
my  appearance.  She  would  be  taller  than  when  we  parted — 
perhaps  more  shy.  I  might  have  to  woo  her  cautiously  for  a 
time  until  the  rust  of  non-intercourse  was  nibbed  off.  But 
she  would  be  always  Ailsie — a  child  that  had  no  peer, — and 
— I  owned  it  without  an  unworthy  shade  of  self-pity — the 
being  who,  of  all  in  the  wide  world,  loved  me  best,  than 
whom  none  was  more  dear  to  me. 

The  old  road  ended  abruptly  at  a  loose  stone  wall  en- 
wrapped by  a  scarlet  robe  of  American  ivy,  whose  tough 
fibres  kept  it  from  tumbling  down.  Beyond  this  was  a  body 
of  maples.  I  remembered  how  the  "  maple  woods  look  as 


240  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

if  they  were  afire,"  and  stopped  to  note  how  just  was  the 
comparison.  Afire  from  bole  to  outermost  twig,  save  that, 
at  long  intervals,  stood  a  few,  more  lush  of  foliage  than  their 
fellows,  whose  green  hearts  were  the  brighter  by  contrast 
with  the  vermilion  and  orange  of  the  farther  branches. 
Others  had  burned  into  purple  with  a  dust  of  grayish  ashes 
edging  the  leaves.  They  colored  the  very  air.  Each  leaf 
hung,  a  motionless  and  delicate  transparency,  emitting  as 
well  as  transmitting  light.  The  grove  was  between  me  and 
the  western  sky,  and  the  low  sun  did  not  penetrate  it,  yet 
upon  grass  and  soil  and  rude  wall  lay  clear,  warm  shadows, 
like  those  cast  by  glowing  sunset  clouds. 

"  Brightwood  ! "  I  murmured.  "  Even  without  the  sun- 
shine ! "  I  passed  through  the  enchanted  wood,  treading  a 
carpet  of  such  brilliant  warp  and  woof  as  never  came  from 
looms  of  man's  making.  A  strip  of  pasture-land  succeeded 
it,  then  a  compact  mass  of  hickories,  chestnuts,  and  oaks,  the 
yellows  of  the  nut-bearing  trees  shining  vividly  against  the 
dark  crimsons  and  rich  browns  worn  by  the  forest  monarchs. 

From  the  lower  slope  of  the  grove  arose  the  pleasant 
chime  of  children's  voices,  merry  in  talk.  Guided  by  the 
sound  I  gained  a  coign  of  advantage  behind  a  clump  of 
chestnut  saplings,  and  surveyed  the  group,  myself  safely 
hidden.  A  mimic  Druidical  temple,  roofless  but  for  the  sky, 
had  been  reared  in  a  circular  clearing  near  the  foot  of  the 
wooded  hill,  so  close  to  the  outskirts  of  the  grove  that  the 
sunlight  lay  in  broad  streaks  and  patches  across  the  encom- 
passing row  of  great  stones  and  the  smaller  ones  that  served 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  241 

the  audience  as  seats.  The  little  area  was  well  filled.  I 
recognized  Robby,  although  he  had  been  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  be-jacketed  and  be-trousered  juvenility  in  my  ab- 
sence. I  surmised  that  the  sweet-faced  three-year-old,  sitting 
close  to  him,  was  baby  Evy.  The  rest  of  the  children  were 
strangers  to  me,  and  all  older  than  these  two.  They  were 
probably  cousinly  or  neighborly  visitors  at  the  farm.  There 
were  three  or  four  boys  among  them,  ranging  in  age  from 
ten  to  twelve,  and  one  fine  lad  of  fifteen  with  a  handsome 
Darling  face,  who,  I  settled  within  my  own  mind,  must  be 
Ailsie's  favorite  cousin  "Rick,"  of  whom  I  had  heard  much 
in  her  letters. 

At  the  moment  of  my  approach  he  was  on  his  feet,  an- 
nouncing to  the  assembly  that  the  "  performance  of  the 
afternoon  would  be  commenced  with  a  song  from  the  cele- 
brated vocalist — Mademoiselle  Malibran  Jenny  Lind  War- 
bleini.  Whom  I  have  the  honor  of  introducing  to  you." 

And  forth  from  behind  a  screen  of  woven  brush  stepped  the 
songstress,  mounted  a  platform  of  rather  shaky  stones,  and 
bowed  her  thanks  for  the  burst  of  applause  that  saluted  her. 

My  Ailsie  !  chains  of  autumn  leaves  bordering  her  white 
frock,  girdling  her  waist,  crowning  her  brown  hair.  The  hue 
of  the  brightest  of  them  in  her  cheeks, — and,  a  light  in  her 
glorious  eyes,  the  soul  of  the  artist  who  was,  for  the  time,  all 
she  would  seem. 

Crossing  her  hands  lightly,  in  the  gesture  once  so  familiar 
to  me,  she  began  her  song,  amazing  me  by  the  strength  and 
flexibility  of  her  voice,  and  carrying  the  attention  of  her 
1 1 


242  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

auditors  with  her  by  the  distinctness  and  varying  expression 
of  her  utterance. 

"I  have  told  thee  how  sweet  the  roses  are 

In  my  home  beyond  the  sea, 
Where  the  dark -eyed  maid  with  her  light  guitar 

Sits  under  the  greenwood  tree. 
Thou  woulds't  scorn  the  fruits  of  thy  mountain  home 

Beholding  the  purple  vine, — 
Then  come  to  the  land  of  my  birth,  oh  come  I 

Henceforth  let  my  home  be  thine  I 

"  I  have  heard  thee  tell  of  a  sky  more  blue 
And  a  sun  more  warm  than  this ; — 

And  I've  sometimes  thought — if  thy  tale  were  true- 
To  dwell  in  that  clime  were  bliss. 

But  oh  !  when  I  gaze  on  my  tranquil  cot, 
Where  the  clematis  boughs  entwine, 

The  land  of  the  stranger  tempts  me  not ; 
No  !  ne'er  can  thy  home  be  mine  1 

"  I  will  sing  to  thee,  if  with  me  thou'lt  rove, 

A  song  of  the  olden  time. 
Thou  wilt  never  compare  with  my  ardent  love 

The  love  of  this  colder  clime. 
Then,  fly,  oh  fly,  from  this  land  of  storm, 

Where  all  that  is  fair  must  pine, 
To  scenes  more  gay  and  a  sun  more  warm ; 
Henceforth  let  my  home  be  thine. 

11  Alas  !  it  is  plain  that  my  mountain  home 

Must  ever  be  scorned  by  thee ; 
And  may  I  not  fear  that  a  time  may  come 
When  thou  wilt  have  scorn  for  me  ? '' 


M  Y  LITTLE  L O  VE.  243 

This  with  hanging  head,  and  a  cadence  of  mournful  doubt. 
What  follows,  with  a  sudden  uplifting  of  the  bright  face,  a 
triumphant  peal  in  her  song  : — 

"  And,  oh  1  there  is  one  who  loves  me  here, 

Whose  voice,  if  less  sweet  than  thine, 
To  my  simple  taste  is  far  more  dear ;  — 
No  !  ne'er  can  thy  home  be  mine  ! " 

The  storm  of  plaudits  was  at  its  height,  even  baby's  fat 
palms  doing  sounding  execution,  when  a  touch  on  my  shoul- 
der turned  me  to  meet  the  laughing  faces  of  Pressley  and 
Wynant  Darling,  who  had  stolen  up  to  share  my  ambush. 
With  mutual  admonitions  to  discretion,  we  grasped  each 
other's  hands,  and  whispered  brief  greetings.  Then,  each 
sought  a  loop-hole  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  "perform- 
ances." 

"  Mademoiselle  Malibran  Jenny  Lind  Warbleini  lectures 
quite  as  admirably  as  she  sings,"  proclaimed  the  master  of 
ceremonies — "and  has  kindly  consented  to  favor  us  with — 
ah — one  of  her  most  distinguished  efforts — one  which  has 
earned  for  her, — ahem  ! — deathless  renown  in  this  and  in  for- 
eign countries.  I  trust  the  audience  will  remain  seated  and 
— ah — superhumanly  quiet  while  she  is  speaking.  Like 
other  great  artists,  she  is  exacting  on  this  point." 

"Fairly  done  for  Rick!"  said  Wynant.  "Here  comes 
the  lecturess ! " 

She  emerged  from  her  leafy  retreat  with  a  more  staid  mien 
than  at  her  first  appearance,  as  befitted  the  superior  dignity 


244  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

of  the  rostrum.  She  had  torn  the  chaplet  from  her  head  in 
haste  that  had  ruffled  the  brown  waves,  and  in  her  hand  was 
a  slender  roll  that  looked  like  a  manuscript.  This  was  evi- 
dently the  symbol  of  her  profession,  for  she  did  not  offer  to 
unroll  it. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  silvery  voice,  'the 
subject  of  my  lecture,  this  afternoon,  is  the  Life  and  Charac- 
ter of  Moses." 

"  Moses  who  ? "  called  out  a  boy  lounging  on  the  grass 
at  the  speaker's  left.  He  was  rougher  in  bearing  and  tone 
than  his  companions  and  was,  Wynant  whispered,  the  son 
of  Ezra  Gaskin's  city  brother,  and  an  interloper  upon  the 
Brightwood  party. 

Regardless  of  the  query,  unconsciously  plagiarised,  many 
years  later,  by  Mark  Twain's  "Jack,"  the  lecturer  held  on 
her  way. 

"  Moses  is  regarded  by  most  speakists  and  book-makers 
as  a  great  and  good  man.  In  fact,  something  exterordinary 
for  those  old,  old  times.  Not  quite  up  to  the  mark  of  our 
wise  men " 

("  Dan.  Webster,  now — What  dy'e  say  to  him  for  a  speci- 
men brick?"  interrupted  Ezra's  nephew.) 

"  You  shut  up,  there ! "  vociferated  the  master  of  cere- 
monies. 

"  Let  him  alone,  Rick ! "  ordered  Ailsie,  in  her  ordinary 
conversational  tone.  "  I'll  have  no  rows  while  I  am  speak- 
ing.") 

"  Never-the-less  "most  everybody  has  the  idea  that  Moses 


MY  LITTLE  LOlrE.  245 

was  pretty  near  perfect.  Let  us  look  at  the  matter.  Be- 
tween you  and  me,  my  friends,  I  never  did  have  much  opin- 
ion of  Moses.  There's  an  awful  time  made — no  end  of  lec- 
turing and  scolding  and  preaching  and  nagging — '  Where  do 
you  expect  to  go  to  when  you  die  ? '  and  all  such  scary  stuff, 
— if  a  poor  little  child  that  hardly  knows  her  right  hand  from 

the  left " 

("  Nor  B  from  a  bull's  foot !  "  from  the  rude  auditor.) 
— "happens  so  much  as  to  crack  one  of  the  leastest  com- 
mandments,— to  put  her  fingers  into  the  sugar-bowl,  for 
instance.  Why,  Moses  broke  two  tables  full  of  them,  and 
not  a  word  was  said  to  him  about  it  that  I  ever  heard  of. 
Broke  them  when  he  was  angry,  too !  Mad  as  a  hatter ! 
That's  a  way  he  had — losing  his  temper.  I'll  tell  you  more 
about  it  presently.  Of  course,  the  people  of  Israel  were  very 
provoking.  They  were  always  up  to  some  trick  or  other. 
Whining  because  they  hadn't  just  what  they  wanted  to  eat. 
Boiled  meat  and  onions  and  leeks  and  such  like  victuals — 
enough  to  turn  one's  stomach  to  think  of  !  And  saying  '  this 
light  bread' — that  meant  manna,  like  the  nicest  sort  of  bis- 
cuit and  honey, — the  food  angels  are  satisfied  with — wasn't 
fit  for  them.  Or  finding  fault  with  Moses  and  Aaron,  or 
setting  on  Korah  and  Dathan  and  the  other  fellow  to  make 
another  government.  Always  snarling  and  restless  'till  there 
was  no  such  thing  as  living  peaceably  with  them.  A  pack 
of  Jews,  all  of  them  !  For  that  matter  Moses  was  a  Jew, 
too,  and  he  ought  to  have  known  how  to  make  allowances 
for  them.  And  it  was  hard  when  they  were  dying  in  the 


246  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

desert  for  water — little  wee  babies  and  all — to  be  scolded  as 
Moses  talked  to  them.  '  Hear  now,  you  rebels  ! '  he  said — 
'  Have  I  got  to  bring  water  out  of  this  rock  for  you  ? ' 
Rebels  !  Put  it  to  yourselves,  now,  how  you'd  like  that  / 

1  Water,  water,  nowhere, 
Not  a  drop  to  drink  ! ' 

And  the  sun  scorching  the  life  out  of  you,  drying  up  the 
tongues  in  your  mouths.  Throats  hotter  than  an  oven.  Out 
comes  Moses,  mad  as  fire,  his  rod  in  his  hand — '  Hear,  now, 
you  rebels  ! '  I  used  to  be  sorry  he  was  punished  for  cutting 
up  so  shamefully  that  day — whacking  the  rock  three  times, 
as  if  'twas  a  bad  child  he  was  whipping.  Now,  I  think  he 
was  served  about  right.  'Specially  when  I  recollect  the  poor 
sheep  and  oxen  and  lambs  and  babies." 

("What  about  the  horses  and  donkeys?"  from  the  city 
boy.) 

"Then,  again,  my  friends,  do  you  suppose  that  he  wasn't 
angry  when  he  made  the  children  of  Israel  drink  the  powder- 
water?  When  he  had  melted  down  and  burned  up  and 
ground  to  powder  the  golden  calf,  and  strewed  it  on  the 
water  ?  You'd  better  believe  that  was  a  bitter  dose  !  Worse 
than  salts  and  senna  !  I  can  imagine  how  he  did  it.  *  There's 
your  lovely  calf ! '  said  he.  '  You  would  have  it.  Now, 
you've  got  to  take  it ! '" 

"  (By  George  !  he  wouldn't  a'  got  it  down  my  throat !  " 
from  the  Gaskin.) 

"  I  don't  say  that  the  people  weren't  to  blame.  It  was 
awfully  wicked  in  them,  and  foolish  besides,  to  think  that  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE,  247 

Lord  didn't  care  for  them  because  Moses  stayed  away  forty 
days.  Looks  as  if  they  had  been  worshipping  Moses  all  the 
time,  instead  of  the  Lord.  It  was  fearfully  sinful  in  them  to 
make  a  golden  calf." 

("  Golly  1  wouldn't  I  have  liked  to  get  a  slice  of  that  'ere 
veal!"  bleated  the  intruder.) 

"  Because  the  Egyptians  had  worshipped  an  ox  with  gold 
tips  to  his  horns,  was  no  reason  they  should  be  so  silly. 
Seems  to  me  they  might  have  remembered  that  the  Egyptian 
idols  weren't  of  much  use  to  them  in  the  Red  Sea,  for  they 
went  down  to  the  bottom  like  a  stone,  and  the  ox  couldn't 
hook  them  up.  Somehow,  I  have  always  pitied  the  foolish 
women,  who  were  persuaded  into  giving  up  their  earrings 
and  never  saw  them  again.  I  think  the  powder  water  must 
have  tasted  bitterer  to  them  than  to  the  men." 

("  Say  !  ain't  you  'most  through  ?  "  broke  in  the  boor.) 

"The  Israelites'  calf,  my  friends,"  pursued  the  una- 
bashed speaker,  dropping  each  word  with  studied  distinctness, 
and  weight,  "as  I  have  said,  was  made  of  golden  earrings. 
But  there  is  a  calf  in  my  audience  " — wheeling  like  lightning 
to  point  a  level  forefinger  in  the  coarse,  homely  face,  at  her 
left,  "  who  isn't  made  of  earrings — unless  they  were  brass 
ones ! "  * 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Good  enough  for  you,  Ailsie  ! "  roared 
Rick,  and  his  laugh  was  sent  back  with  a  will  by  the  am- 
bushed anditors. 

The  children  jumped  up  at  the  unexpected  chorus,  and 
*  A  literal  report. 


248  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

crowded  towards  us,  hustling  the  now  blushing  "  lecturess " 
along  with  them. 

"  Papa  !  it  wasn't  fair !  Uncle  Wy  !  I  didn't  think  I'd  ever 
catch  you  eaves-dropping  !  "  was  her  cry. 

In  the  midst  of  the  protest  her  glance  fell  upon  me,  as  I 
hung  back  still  partially  concealed  by  the  clump  of  saplings. 
Every  drop  of  blood  left  her  face  ;  she  clasped  her  hands 
with  a  quick  convulsive  movement,  her  eyes  fastening  upon 
mine  in  wild  incredulity  that  looked  like  terror.  Really  fear- 
ing that  she  would  faint,  I  darted  past  her  father  and  uncle, 
and  caught  her  hands. 

"  Ailsie  !    little  Ailsie  !    are  you  not  glad  to  see  me  ?" 

Her  face  was  hidden  in  my  bosom,  and  I  felt  that  she  was 
shaking  like  a  leaf,  but  there  was  no  sound  of  welcome.  I 
think  her  father  gave  the  signal  to  Wynant  to  call  off  the 
spectators,  for  he  set  up  a  whoop  : 

"  Hare  and  hounds  !  here  he  goes  ! "  and  tore  off  down 
the  slope  with  a  yelling  crowd  in  pursuit. 

We  were  left  to  ourselves — Ailsie  and  I.  Sitting  down 
upon  a  stone,  I  drew  her  to  my  knee,  stroked  the  bright 
head  I  loved  so  fondly ;  kissed  it  once  and  again  before  I 
could  win  her  to  look  or  speech. 

"  You  see — "  she  said,  at  length,  throwing  off  the  spell 
with,  a  resolute  effort,  shaking  back  her  hair,  and  granting 
me  a  view  of  her  countenance,  to  which  the  color  was  begin- 
ning to  flow  back — "I  did  not  know  you  were  on  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic  ocean  !  You  must  not  think  I  am  not  glad  : 
I've  wanted  you  so  /" 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  249 

Her  heart  beat  fast  against  my  arm.  She  laid  her  face  to 
mine,  the  smooth  brown  cheek  the  touch  of  which  was  a 
delight,  and  we  were  still  for  a  while.  In  my  moved  soul  I 
was  thanking  Him  who  had  brought  me  to  this  good  hour ; 
who  had  glorified  my  life  by  the  gift  of  love  so  pure  and 
strong  as  that  which  lived  in  the  bosom  of  this  child.  I 
often  felt  like  praying  when  I  was  with  her,  seldom  when  I 
was  not.  I  had  expected  a  joyous  welcome,  yet  such  as 
children  offer  the  long-absent,  in  which  rejoicing  is  blent 
with  diffidence.  The  character  and  might  of  the  emotion 
excited  by  my  appearance  were  a  revelation  even  to  me,  who 
had  believed  that  I  had  gauged  the  deeps  of  a  nature  none 
understood,  who  gave  it  only  such  casual  study  as  we  are 
wont  to  bestow  upon  sprightly  little  girls  between  eight  and 
nine  years  old. 

"  I  landed  in  America  yesterday  morning,  Ailsie,"  I  said 
presently.  "  This  morning  I  set  out  for  Brightwood,  to  see 
you.  It  makes  me  very  happy  to  find  my  darling  so  well, 
and  that  she  did  not  forget  me  in  all  the  long  months  I  have 
spent  away  from  her." 

"  That  couldn't  be,  you  know,"  she  returned  with  earnest 
simplicity.  "  If  you  had  stayed  away  twelve  years  instead 
of  one,  I  should  have  remembered  you.  You  can't  ever 
forget  anybody  you  really  love.  Now  you  must  come  to 
Aunt  Evy.  It  is  selfish  in  me  to  keep  you  all  to  myself, 
when  she  can't  come  to  meet  you." 

Ailsie  all  over !     The  same  daintiness  of  articulation  and 
quaint  brief  sentences  that  said  much   and   meant   more. 
n* 


250  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

The  same  gentle  thoughtfulness  for  others'  comfort  and  hap- 
piness. The  same  frank  delicacy  that  lent  subtle  charm  to 
her  love-talk. 

We  walked  down  the  easy  decline  to  the  plateau  on  which 
the  house  was  built.  The  shadows  of  the  curious  "  crooked 
trees  "  belting  one  side  of  the  lawn  stretched  lazy  lengths 
upon  the  turf.  The  lake  was  a  truthful  mirror  of  the 
embosoming  hills,  with  their  cloaks  and  scarfs  of  many  colors 
streaming  to  the  water's  edge.  On  the  distant  mountains 
was  the  royal  purple  which  is  Autumn's  richest  garniture. 

"  It  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  anthem,  "  Put  on  thy 
beautiful  garments,"  said  Ailsie,  checking  me  to  point  out 
the  witchery  of  light,  color,  and  shadow.  "  It  sings  itself  in 
my  head  all  day,  since  the  woods  changed  their  dresses.  It 
is  good  we  are  having  moonlight  nights  now.  I  shall  be 
disappointed  if  you  don't  like  my  Brightwood." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    MEMORIAL   PINE. 

HE  veritable   site  of    the  garden  of   Eden," 
remarked  Aunt  Evy,  gravely,  next  morning, 
as   Ailsie  broke  up  a  prolonged  conference 
between  us  in  the  little  room  which  was  the 
temporary  "  Innermost."    The  "  Chamber  of  the 
Confessional,"  Wynant  called  it 

Ailsie  and  I — how  naturally  the  words  fell 
together  again  ! — were  going  nutting.  For  this  day 
she  would  have  no  third  person  along.  "  Mamma" 
had  packed  our  luncheon  in  a  basket  which  I  was  to  carry 
while  full,  and  she  when  it  was  empty.  The  same  rule  was 
to  be  observed  in  the  disposition  of  a  stouter  one  that  was 
to  bring  our  nuts  home. 

"  I  mean  to  show  you  all  my  wonders,"  she  said,  speaking 
very  fast.  "  Pine  Hollow,  and  Sunset  Rock,  and  the 
Witches'  Glen,  and  the  Fairies'  Ball-room,  and  the  Mountain 
of  the  Cross.  There  isn't  one  of  them  that  isn't  lovely,  and 
nearly  all  belong  to  Brightwood.  You  don't  begin  to  know 
what  a  place  it  is." 

"  The   veritable   site   of  the  garden  of  Eden,"  her  aunt 


252  MY  LITTT. E  LOVE. 

interrupted  at  this  point.  "It  would  not  be  possible  to 
convince  her,  or  her  father,  that  the  stump  of  the  ancient 
apple-tree  in  the  lower  pasture  is  not  the  very  one  around 
which  Eve  found  the  serpent  twined,  on  that  fatal  morning 
so  many  fruit-seasons  ago." 

"  That's  only  her  fun  !  "  explained  Ailsie,  apologetically  for 
her  volatile  relative.  "  Of  course  I  know  that  Eden  was  in 
Asia  and  had  four  rivers  with  hard  names  running  through  it." 

"  Brightwood  is  Eden  for  you  to-day,  happy  child !  Enjoy 
every  minute  and  second.  Take  care  of  her,  Barry  !  " 

The  rosy  and  the  pale  faces  lay  together  on  the  pillow, 
for  an  instant,  for  Aunt  Evy  was  a  prisoner  to  her  lounge. 

"  You  are  the  onliest  person  I  would  invite  to  go  with  us," 
said  Ailsie,  running  back  from  the  door  for  still  another 
embrace.  "  Auntie  !  really  and  truly  I  wish  I  could  be  sick 
instead  of  you  for  awhile.  It  would  be  jolly  to  think,  as  well 
as  the  pain  in  my  back  and  head  would  let  me,  how  you 
were  climbing  the  hills  and  scampering  down  the  other  side. 
And  when  you  and  Mr.  Barry  came  home  in  the  evening, 
how  I  should  enjoy  hearing  all  about  it ! " 

"  You  would  lend  him  to  me,  too,  would  you,  as  well  as 
your  strong  limbs  and  healthy  lungs  ?  "  The  invalid  smiled, 
but  the  water  stood  deep  in  her  eyes.  "  Thank  Heaven, 
dear,  that  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  offer  the  sacrifice,  and 
that  it  does  not  rest  with  me  to  say  whether  it  shall  be 
accepted  or  declined  !  Now,  be  off !  and  make  much  of  Mr. 
Barry,  while  you  have  him,  and  of  Brightwood,  too ;  October 
vacations  are  not  endless." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  253 

"Barry  likes  to  be  made  much  of!"  rang  in  my  cars 
in  dry-salted  tones,  very  unlike  the  accents  that  had 
commended  the  process  to  my  guide.  To  prove  that 
benevolence  was  not  extirpated  by  this  selfish  "  liking," 
I  devoted  myself  to  making  much  of  my  charge.  So  tender 
was  my  every  thought  of  her,  that  rarely  perfect  day  that  I 
would  willingly  have  borne  her  in  my  arms  over  stone, 
stubble  and  hillock.  But  in  order  not  to  offend  her  harmless 
pride  in  her  own  woodcraft  and  pedestrianism,  I  had  to 
content  myself  with  carrying  both  baskets  and  lending  a 
helping  hand  when  a  wide  brook  was  to  be  crossed,  or  a  tall 
fence  surmounted.  For  the  rest  of  the  way,  she  trudged  on 
sturdily  beside  me,  doing  the  honors  of  October  and  the 
landscape,  talking  as  fast  as  her  tongue  could  go.  The  red 
wine  of  health  and  happiness  was  in  her  veins,  heart-sunshine 
in  the  eyes  that  sought  mine,  continually,  with  an  exultant 
sense  of  actual  possession  and  proprietorship  that  was  both 
pretty  and  diverting. 

She  would  never  weary  me  with  fondlings — this  dainty 
little  betrothed  of  mine.  Unless  taken  by  surprise,  tact  and 
good  taste  alike  warned  her  against  effusiveness.  The 
maidenliness  of  her  demeanor,  to-day,  was  inimitable  and 
suggestive.  With  such  refinement  of  tenderness  and  real 
dignity,  I  felt  sure  she  would,  ten  years  hence,  assign  to  a 
lover  his  position  and  privileges.  Last  evening,  she  had 
scarcely  stirred  from  my  side,  and  seldom  spoken  except 
when  directly  addressed.  Now  she  meant  business.  We 
were  out  to  see  the  country — her  "wonders"  included,  and 


254  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

to  gather  nuts.  She  had  a  story  for  each  of  the  spots  she 
had  designated — incident  or  adventure  belonging  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  summer,  or  traditions  more  or  less  well-substanti- 
ated, which^she  had  picked  up  in  her  free-and-easy  inter- 
course with  the  country-people.  We  made  no  haste.  There 
was  a  liberal  stretch  of  daylight  ahead  of  us.  We  "  did  "  the 
notable  places  thoroughly  and  gathered  nuts  when  we  stumb- 
led over  them,  provided  they  were  free  from  husk  and  burr. 

"  Beating  them  out  doesn't  pay  when  they  can  be  had 
without  smashing  one's  fingers  between  two  stones,"  observ- 
ed Ailsie,  oracularly,  turning  over  the  dry  leaves  with  the 
toe  of  her  boot,  to  uncover  chance  treasures.  "  It's  a  good 
plan  to  get  things  without  trouble  when  there's  no  harm  in 
it.  Some  people  think  nothing  is  worth  having  that  comes 
easy.  Water  and  air  and  sunshine  ought  to  teach  them  that 
they  are  mistaken,  but,  dear  me  !  the  quantity  of  stupid  men 
and  women  and  children  in  this  world  is  absolutly  as-ton-ish- 
ing  !  Don't  put  those  into  the  basket,  please  !  They  are 
pig-nuts.  And  very  poor  taste — even  for  them — the  pigs 
must  have,  if  they  like  that  sort  of  food.  They  aren't  more 
than  half  as  big  as  hickory-nuts  to  begin  with.  Then,  the 
shells  are  twice  as  thick,  and  when  you've  worked  your  way 
to  the  stingy  scrap  of  a  kernel,  it's  as  bitter  as  gall.  You  re- 
member what  Mr.  Weller  says  about  the  charity-boy  and  the 
alphabet  ?  '  It's  a  question  whether  it  is  worth  while  to  go 
through  so  much  to  get  so  little.'  " 

"  I  recollect !  I  did  not  suppose  you  had  made  Mr. 
Welter's  acquaintance  yet." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  255 

"  I  read  Pickwick  in  the  early  part  of  the  summer.  It's 
a  nice  book  to  take  out  under  the  trees  on  a  hot  day.  Papa 
thought  I  couldn't  appreciate  it,  but  I  liked  what  I  did 
understand.  It  doesn't  take  much  brains  to  be  amused  at 
the  fat  boy,  and  Mr.  Winkle's  riding  and  hunting,  and  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter's  '  Expiring  Frog.'  Nor  at  the  Wellers.  I  was 
quite  worried  to  find  that  the  stage-driver  who  brought  us 
here  was  a  dried-up,  sober  little  man,  who  couldn't  say  any- 
thing but  '  Geet-up  I '  and  '  Whoa-there  ! '  " 

We  lunched  sumptuously  under  a  chestnut  tree  on  the 
brow  of  a  green  hill.  Soft  grass  grew  up  to  its  roots.  The 
long,  sharply  serrated  leaves  were  of  a  fine,  clear  lemon- 
color,  and  the  light  strained  through  these  painted  the  turf 
in  lively  tints  that  made  the  shaded  area  about  us  as  fair  as 
the  sunny  slopes  beyond.  The  air  was  still,  but  we  drew  in 
balm  and  sweetness  with  every  breath,  for  back  of  the  chest- 
nutted  knoll  lay  heights  darkly  clad  with  hemlock,  cedar  and 
fir,  sunbeams  and  wind  asleep  together  in  the  topmost 
branches.  Before  us  rolled  the  hill,  gradually,  for  a  few  rods, 
then  steeply  down  to  the  little  river  that  fed  the  lake  to  the 
left.  A  bridge  crossed  it  just  before  the  widening  into  the 
pond,  and  the  occasional  rattle  of  a  country  wagon  over  it 
varied  the  rural  hum  that  went  pleasantly  with  the  mellow 
sunlight,  the  resinous  and  nutty  smells.  There  were  sheep 
in  the  lower  meadows,  cows  in  the  upper,  and  from  farm- 
houses, hidden  by  hills  and  wood-belts,  came  the  crowing  of 
answering  cocks,  and,  once  in  a  while,  the  deep  bay  of  a 
hound.  A  parliament  of  crows  sat  in  a  tall  hemlock  on  the 


256  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

next  spur  of  the  ridge,  at  a  distance  that  took  the  harshness 
out  of  their  discussions  before  they  reached  us. 

We  were  hardly  aware  that  we  heeded  the  out-door  con- 
cert, yet  it  filled  up  the  pauses  in  our  dialogue  with  the 
pulsing  of  low  music.  Our  talk  took  on  a  pensive  tone 
with  our  unconscious  listening.  Our  lunch  basket  was 
empty,  and  with  satisfied  appetites,  we  lay  along  the  hill-top, 
our  elbows  cushioned  in  the  soft  tussocks  of  wild  grass,  taking 
in  full,  slow  draughts  of  enjoyment,  as  the  connoisseur  pours 
down  a  beaker  of  brown  old  October  ale. 

"  Do  you  see  my  cross  ?  "  asked  Ailsie,  pointing  to  the 
summit  of  the  opposing  range  of  hills,  higher  and  more 
rugged  than  on  our  side  of  the  valley.  "  On  the  second — 
the  highest  mountain.  Almost  to  the  top.  There !  you 
are  looking  straight  at  it.  Isn't  it  a  very  strange  thing?" 

It  was.  A  tree — apparently  a  pine — towering  above  the 
horizon-line  of  the  forest,  and  forming  with  upright  trunk 
and  transverse  arms,  a  symmetrical  and  well-defined  cross 
against  the  tender  blue  of  the  October  heavens. 

"  It's  been  there,  maybe,  a  hundred  years,"  said  my  cice- 
rone, meditatively,  surveying  the  land-mark  with  eyes  full  of 
mysterious  meaning.  "  It  just  grew  into  that  shape  of  itself, 
the  people  about  here  say.  But  it  does  seem  as  if  GOD  may 
have  meant  it  all  along.  For  He  knew  what  was  to  happen 
on  that  hill,  one  day — when  the  time  came.  There's  some- 
thing that  makes  you  feel  very  solemn  in  thinking  how  that 
tree  kept  growing,  growing,  growing,  year  by  year,  putting 
out  one  little  bunch  of  leaves  at  a  time,  first  on  this  side, 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  257 

then  on  that,  and,  all  the  while,  making  the  cross  that  was 
to  be  a  sign  to  everybody,  by-and-by,  to  remind  them  of  the 
poor  lost  children." 

"  What  children  ?  " 

"You  don't  mean  you  never  heard  of  them?  Pshaw!  I 
keep  forgetting  how  long  and  how  far  you've  been  away,  and 
that  all  this  part  of  the  country  is  new  to  you.  It  seems  so 
natural  to  have  you  around,  I  can't  think  how  it  was  before 
you  came." 

She  sat  up,  gathered  her  hands  full  of  pale  yellow  leaves 
from  the  grass  and  shred  them  into  her  lap  while  the  story 
grew  ;  now  looking  at  them  and  seeing  nothing  but  the  scenes 
of  the  tragedy,  again  gazing  at  the  memorial  pine  with  eyes 
that  went  yet  further  and  made  her  own  the  secrets  of  the 
Unseen. 

"I've  thought,  a  thousand  times,  since  I  heard  about  them 
first,  how  odd  it  was  that  it  should  have  happened  that  very 
Christmas-night  when  you  and  I  had  tea  by  ourselves  in  our 
comfortable  parlor  at  home.  I  was  sorry  I  had  said  how 
jolly  it  was  that  it  was  storming,  while  we  sat  by  the 
warm  fire  and  read  the  'Ancient  Mariner,'  and  talked 
about  so  many  delightful  things.  Do  you  remember 
teaching  me — 

'  And  resembles  sorrow  only, 
As  the  mists  resemble  the  rain'  ? 

How  little  we  know ! 

"There  were  three  of  them.  All  boys.  The  oldest 
wasn't  more  than  ten  years  old.  The  youngest  was 


258  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

five.  Their  father  and  mother  were  poor,  and  lived  in 
a  small  house  quite  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  On 
that  Christmas  day — it  didn't  snow  here  in  the  morning  as  it 
did  in  town — about  three  o'clock,  they  told  their  mother 
that  they  had  found  in  the  morning  a  hickory-nut  tree  in  the 
woods  that  nobody  else  could  have  known  anything  about, 
because  the  ground  was  covered  thick  with  nuts.  Might 
they  go  to  pick  them  up  ?  She  said,  '  Yes.'  They  were 
mountain  children,  you  see,  and  used  to  running  wild  by 
themselves.  Off  they  went,  each  with  a  little  tin  pail,  and 
full  of  fun  over  their  nutting  frolic.  I  suppose  it  was  a 
great  affair  to  them,  who  couldn't  run  out  to  candy-stores 
whenever  they  got  a  penny.  'Tisn't  likely  pennies  were 
plenty  with  them  either.  Pretty  soon  it  began  to  snow. 
You  remember  how  the  wind  whistled  and  sang  and  groaned 
in  our  chimney  that  night  after  tea  ?  Over  there,  in  those 
woods  on  the  mountain,  it  roared  I  Like  a  thousand  wild 
beasts. 

"  The  boys'  father  had  been  down  in  the  village  three 
miles  away.  When  he  got  home  it  was  almost  dark.  He 
found  his  wife  alone  and  pretty  nearly  crazy.  She  had  been 
as  far  in  the  woods  as  she  dared  go,  and  called  the  boys  at 
the  top  of  her  voice.  They  had  not  answered  and  they  had 
not  come  home.  The  father  took  a  lantern  and  set  out  to 
look  for  them.  He  wandered  up  and  down,  shouting  out 
their  names.  No  answer  but  the  roaring  of  the  wind  and  the 
rattling  of  the  hail.  When  he  was  half  frozen  he  had  to  go 
in  out  of  the  storm.  Early  next  morning,  although  it  was 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  259 

still  storming  hard,  he  went  to  some  of  the  neighbors  and 
got  them  to  help  him  look  for  his  lost  sons.  More  and  more 
people  came  next  day  and  next  and  the  next.  At  last  there 
were  more  than  a  hundred  men  roaming  through  the  woods 
with  dogs  and  guns  and  horns — making  a  great  noise,  beat- 
ing every  bush,  and  looking  in  every  stream  and  hollow. 

"  Still  no  children,  not  a  sign  to  tell  which  way  they  had 
gone,  any  more  than  if  the  ground  had  opened  and  swal- 
lowed them  up. 

"  Some  people  thought  they  had  been  murdered.  Some 
said  they  had  strayed  to  some  other  place,  maybe  to  some 
town  and  been  taken  into  an  asylum,  or  somebody's  house. 
Some  were  sure  they  had  fallen  into  a  pond  or  river,  and 
were  frozen  under  the  ice.  The  hundred  men  got  tired 
hunting  for  them  and  went  home.  The  father  and  mother 
went  to  their  home,  too.  It  must  have  been  fearfully  lone- 
some now  that  the  three  little  fellows  were  not  there." 

The  busy  hands  rested  upon  the  pile  of  shred  leaves- 
She  looked  at  me  dubiously. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  about  telling  you  the  rest.  It 
won't  sound  true,  or  a  single  speck  likely  to  you.  But  it  is 
true.  The  man  told  papa  about  it  himself  this  summer. 
Papa  had  never  quite  believed  it  until  then.  But  why 
shouldn't  GOD  be  able  to  talk  to  people  in  dreams  now  as 
He  used  to  ?  And,  since  everybody  had  stopped  hunting 
for  the  children,  how  else  could  they  have  been  found? 
This  man  had  a  dream  one  night.  He  thought  he  was  walk- 
ing up  the  mountain  and  saw  a  flock  of  crows  flying  about 


260  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

the  top  of  a  high  pine-tree.  Something  or  somebody  told 
him  to  go  to  that  place,  and  when  he  got  there,  he  saw  the 
three  lost  boys.  In  the  morning  he  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
dream.  He  set  out  in  his  wagon  in  the  direction  of  the 
mountain  and  rode  three  or  four  miles  before  he  came  in 
sight  of  a  tree  that  looked  just  like  the  one  he  had  dreamed 
of.  The  crows  were  flying  around  the  top.  I  suppose  as 
those  are  doing  over  yonder,  and  cawing  in  the  same  way. 
The  man,  who  had  a  friend  with  him,  got  out  of  the  wagon 
and  went  up  the  mountain,  over  the  stones  and  bushes, 
straight  to  the  foot  of  the  big  pine-tree.  And  there,  really 
and  truly,  lay  the  three  boys,  all  dead.  It  had  been  ten  days 
since  they  went  to  look  for  the  Christmas  nuts.  On  the  top 
of  a  great  flat  rock  lay  the  oldest  boy.  He  had  hardly  any 
clothes  on.  The  next  boy  was  on  the  ground  a  little  way 
off.  Right  under  the  rock,  in  a  sort  of  a  hollow  that  it 
leaned  over — like  this — "  making  an  inclined  plane  of  one 
palm  over  the  other — "  was  the  babyest  of  them,  wrapped  up 
in  his  oldest  brother's  jacket  and  trowsers,  on  a  bed  of  dried 
leaves,  just  as  his  mother  might  have  tucked  him  up  in  his 
crib  at  home." 

She  stripped  leaf  after  leaf  into  threads,  her  face  set  in 
serious  compassion  very  unlike  the  emotion  a  child  might  be 
expected  to  evince  in  the  telling  of  such  a  grievous  tale. 

"  It  is  as  you  say,  a  very  strange  story,"*  I  said.  "Strange 
and  sad." 

"  Yes,  sad,  if  we  look  at  it  one  way.     But  that  boy  died  a 

*  But  true  in  every  particular. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  261 

glorious  death.  When  Aunt  Evy  heard  the  story  she  said — 
'  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  he  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  friends.'  You  can  think  how  she  would  say  it. 
I  wonder  why  he  climbed  that  big  rock.  The  men  who 
found  them  thought  they  must  have  been  frozen  to  death  on 
Christmas  night.  It  was  such  frightful  weather.  They  had 
strayed  over  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  gone  some  distance 
down  the  other  side,  trying  to  find  the  way  home.  Do  you 
suppose  he  got  up  there  so  as  to  see  farther  when  morning 
came  ?  He  had  pulled  his  arm  out  of  one  shirt-sleeve  as  if 
he  had  begun  to  take  it  off.  No  doubt  he  heard  his  little 
brother  crying  with  the  cruel  cold,  and  wanted  to  give  him 
more  cover.  The  last  thing  he  did  was  to  try  to  help  him." 

"Is  that  the  pine-tree?"  inquired  I,  looking  at  the  gigan- 
tic cross  with  moved  interest. 

"  No  !  it  is  farther  down  on  this  side.  We  went  there 
once  with  papa.  It  was  very  solemn.  Aunt  Evy  couldn't 
go,  of  course,  but  she  sent  flowers  to  lay  on  the  big  rock. 
She  called  it  a  pilgrimage.  I  couldn't  help  wishing  the  rock 
could  speak  and  tell  us  what  really  happened  that  dark  stormy 
night.  We  saw  where  the  baby-brother  had  been  put  to 
sleep.  Mamma  cried.  I  saw  the  tears  drop  on  her  hand 
when  she  stooped  down  and  smoothed  the  dead  leaves  as  if 
he  had  been  asleep  under  them  still.  We  all  talked  in  whis- 
pers— even  Robby.  The  cross-tree  is  on  the  tip-top  of  the 
mountain.  Likely,  the  boys  passed  under  it  in  the  dark 
without  seeing  it.  Aunt  Evy  says  it  is  their  monument,  all 
the  same.  She  can  see  it  from  her  window,  and  she  says  it 


262  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

helps  her  to  be  patient  when  she  is  in  great  pain.  She  calls 
the  biggest  boy  her  hero.  If  you  could  see  her,  sometimes, 
in  one  of  her  bad  spells,  you  would  think  she  was  a  heroess." 

The  word  slipped  out  so  smoothly  and  suddenly  that  grav- 
ity on  my  part  was  an  impossibility.  Luckily,  she  was  not 
looking  at  me,  or  she  would  have  detected  the  untimely 
glimmer,  and  been  dumb  for  the  next  hour.  Her  dread  of 
making  herself  ridiculous  equaled  her  desire  to  promote  a 
comfortable  frame  of  mind  in  others. 

She  was  emptying  her  lap  of  the  torn  leaves,  leisurely  and 
reflectively,  her  mind  still  upon  her  "hero." 

"I  dare  say,"  she  continued,  as  if  in  soliloquy — "that  boy 
didn't  know  how  to  read  and  write.  He  was  poor  and  wore 
patched  clothes,  and  talked  bad  grammar,  perhaps.  But  he 
knew  how  to  suffer  and  die  for  somebody  he  loved.  That 
was  enough  for  one  person's  life-time.  If  he  had  been  fifty 
years  old,  instead  of  ten,  he  couldn't  have  done  it  better. 
I  think  when  the  morning  came,  he  saw  very  far  from  the 
top  of  that  rock — much  farther  than  he  had  expected,  when  he 
climbed  it.  As  Stephen  did,  you  know,  when  they  stoned  him." 

She  shook  out  the  fragments  of  leaf  and  stem  from  her 
frock,  and  strolled  down  the  hill,  a  little  way,  for  wild  flow- 
ers, returning  soon  with  a  handful  which  she  displayed  glee- 
fully, quoting : 

"  But  on  the  hill  the  golden-rod 
And  the  aster  in  the  wood, 
And  the  yellow  sunflower  by  the  brook 
In  autumn  beauty  stood." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  263 

"  Aunt  Evy  taught  that  to  me  when  I  was  six  years  old. 
Every  Fall  since  then,  I  have  made  a  bouquet  for  her  of  the 
three  flowers.  'Crown  jewels,'  she  says  they  are.  I  am 
thankful  the  sunflower  does  not  mean  the  ugly  monsters  your 
Mrs.  Gaskin  used  to  have  along  her  garden-fence.  Great, 
staring  bold  things — big  as  a  dinner-plate,  with  a  brown  tea- 
plate  in  the  middle." 

"Why  do  you  say — 'your  Mrs.  Gaskin'  so  spitefully, 
Ailsie  ?  "  remonstrated  I,  plaintively.  "  I  haven't  seen  her 
in  two  years.  And  I  certainly  did  not  correspond  with  her 
while  I  was  abroad." 

"  She  stopped  to  speak  to  us  after  church,  last  Sunday," 
was  the  reply.  "  And  asked  where  you  were  and  '  how  long 
you  were  goin'  to  stay  in  furren  parts,  and  were  you  studyin' 
the  doctor's  trade  over  there?'  Mr.  '  Ezry'  'guessed  you'd 
be  proper  spry  and  stuck-up  against  you  came  back,  and 
thin  as  a  rail,  a-livin'  on  frogs  and  snails.'  I  wish  everybody 
who  wants  to  be  witty  about  French  people  wouldn't  feel 
obliged  to  talk  of  such  disgusting  things.  Such  as  eating 
frogs  and  snails,  I  mean.  They're  all  right  in  their  proper 
place.  But  that  isn't  upon  Christians'  tables.  Nor  in  their 
mouths.  Tcha ! " 

Resuming  her  seat  upon  the  elastic  tussock,  she  arranged 
her  flowers,  singing  to  herself ;  setting  her  graceful  head  on 
this  side  and  on  that,  to  judge  of  the  effect  of  purple-and- 
gold,  touching  up  the  cluster  with  delicate  ferns  and  winding 
the  stems  with  wire-grass. 

Watching  her  from  the  shadow  of  my  hat-brim,  in  lazy 


2  64  My  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

content,  I  began  to  succumb  to  the  combined  influences  of 
warm  sweet  air,  mellowed  sunlight  and  music.  The  effect  of 
the  fatiguing  voyage  and  stage  ride,  the  excitement  of  arrival 
and  welcome,  were,  in  this  first  hour  of  absolute  rest,  appreci- 
able in  a  luxurious  lassitude  that  stole  from  limb  to  brain.  I 
could  imagine  nothing  more  divine,  said  my  drowsy  fancy, 
than  thus  to  lie,  and  look,  and  dream,  for  a  week — why  not 
for  a  month — why  not  forever?  The  lotus  eater's  "  myrrh- 
bush  on  the  height "  was  of  a  lively  and  scentless  growth,  in 
comparison  with  the  languorous  droop  and  subtle  aroma  of  the 
lemon-tinted  leaves,  through  which  I  stared  upward.  The  hill- 
lop  grasses,  uncut  and  ungrazed,  were  supple  in  their  dryness, 
They  pillowed  my  head,  without  tickling  my  ears  and  nose. 
The  earth  was  tempered  to  her  heart,  by  weeks  of  perfect 
weather. 

"Talk  of  sunny  France,  indeed  !"  I  ejaculuted  in  a  fine 
disdain.  "  It  and  Italia  may  go  to — Ballyhack  ! " 

Ailsie  glanced  around  and  smiled,  without  intermitting  her 
crooning. 

"  Cherie  / "  said  I,  benevolent  and  complacent.  "  You 
will  be  a  marvellous  singer,  when  your  voice  shall  have  got 
its  growth.  But  we  will  not  go  to  Italy  to  cultivate  it.  We 
will  spend  four  months  of  the  year,  always  including  October, 
at  Brightwood,  and  come  out  every  day  to  this  enchanted 
mount  where  you  can  sing  as  loudly  and  as  long  as  we  like, 
with  the  echoes  to  encore  you." 

"And  the  crows?"  queried  my  cantatrice  demurely. 

"  The  crows  be  shot  !    Sing  me  a  love-song,  Ailsie  !    And 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  265 

then  another.  And  still  another,  until  you  are  tired,  or  I  beg 
you  to  stop." 

I  pulled  my  hat  low  over  my  eyes. 

She  laughed.  A  ripple  of  fun  which  recalled  my  slipping 
senses  for  a  moment. 

"There  are  all  sorts  of  love-songs.  Will  you  have  a  kill- 
ing one,  or  a  dolesome,  or  a  lively  one  ?  " 

"  Nothing  murderous,  if  you  love  me  !  The  day  is  too 
delicious,  and  I  am  in  too  good  a  humor.  Something 
between  the  dolesome  and  the  lively.  I  don't  want  to  be 
driven  to  melancholy,  nor  waked  up  too  decidedly." 

She  preluded  for  awhile,  humming  a  few  bars  each,  of 
different  airs,  then  trolled,  with  spirited  emphasis,  a 
ballad  I  guessed  at  once  was  drawn  from  Aunt  Evy's 
repertory. 

"  Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may 

Old  Time  is  still  a-flying, 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to-day 
To-morrow  will  be  dying. 

"  The  glorious  lamp  of  heaven,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he's  a-getting. 

The  sooner  will  his  race  be  run, 

The  nearer  he's  to  setting. 

% '  That  age  is  best  which  is  the  first, 

When  youth  and  blood  are  warmer, 
But,  being  spent,  the  worse  and  worse 
Times  still  succeed  the  former. 

12 


266  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

"  Then,  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time, 

And  while  ye  may,  go  marry  ; 
For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime 
You  may  forever  tarry." 

"  You  are  hard  on  a  fellow  who'll  be  '  almost  a  hundred 
when  you  are  one-and-twenty  !'  "  I  complained  in  a  muffled 
tone,  by  reason  of  drowsiness  and  hat-brim.  "  But  go  on  ! 
I  am  at  your  mercy  !  " 

She  put  out  her  hand  to  pat  mine. 

"  Poor  little  fellow  I  Did  it  wake  up  ?  Sh-sh-sh  !  Love- 
songs  aren't  the  best  sleep-songs  after  all. 


1  Hush-a-by  baby,  on 

would  be  better.  Or,"  launching  her  fresh  young  voice 
upon  a  new  and  full  tide  of  melody  — 

"  Peaceful  slumbering  on  the  ocean, 

Seamen  fear  no  danger  nigh  ; 
The  winds  and  waves  in  gentle  motion, 
Soothe  them  with  their  lullaby, 

Lullaby  !  " 

Thus  far,  I  followed  her  intelligently.  The  next  thing  I 
knew,  or  thought  I  knew  —  I  was  stretched  upon  the  deck 
of  the  steamer  that  brought  me  home,  —  a  thousand  miles  of 
blue  sailless  sea  before,  and  two  thousand  behind  me  ;  pure 
woolly  clouds  fainting  into  nothingness  in  the  zenith,  the 
swish  of  the  waves  and  the  measured  throb  of  the  engine 
hushing  me  into,  slumber.  Then  I  swung  in  a  hammock 
woven  o/  wire-grass  a.nd  lined  with  wild  hay,  lashed  to  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  267 

lowest  branches  of  the  chestnut.  The  amber  light  trickled, 
in  a  warm,  perfumed  fluid,  upon  my  eyelids — a  sleeping 
potion  I  could  not  withstand,  struggle  though  I  did  when  I. 
became  aware  that  Ailsie,  a  band  of  "  crown-jewels  "  in  her 
hair,  was  swaying  me  back  and  forth,  and  chanting  her  lull- 
aby. 

After  that,  "all  was  nought  and  nought  was  all,"  until 
something — a  grasshopper,  I  thought,  in  the  confusion  of 
awakening — lit  upon  my  nose,  with  a  prodigious  number  of 
titillating  feet  and  mandibles,  all  going  at  once.  Jerking  up  a 
hand  to  dislodge  him,  I  blinded  myself  with  a  shower  of  gay 
leaves  that  rustled  smartly  in  falling.  I  was  snowed  under, 
a  foot  deep,  with  them,  red,  russet,  amethyst,  orange — they 
went  flying  before  my  sight  when  I  would  have  arisen,  like 
scraps  of  a  desiccated  but  fadeless  rainbow. 

"  Ailsie  ! "  I  cried,  in  feigned  distress. 

There  was  no  reply.  I  repeated  the  call  in  a  shout  that 
brought  the  echoes  hurrying  down  from  the  heights  in  the 
rear.  I  was  alone  where  I  had  fallen  asleep.  The  sun  was 
not  a  couple  of  yards  above  the  highest  of  the  western  hills. 
I  must  have  slept  long  and  hard.  I  freed  myself  from  the 
motley  coverlet,  combed  divers  persistent  leaves  with  my 
fingers  from  my  hair  and  whiskers,  and  sought  for  my  hat  in 
the  debris.  It  was  set  spikily  with  the  stiff  stemmed  "crown- 
iewels,"  until  there  was  not  room  to  thrust  another  under 
the  band.  An  enormous  bouquet  of  the  same  was  pinned 
in  my  button-hole.  I  had  bracelets  and  leg-bangles  of 
golden-rod  tied  with  tough  grass. 


268  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Verily,  my  guardian  fairy  had  made  good  use  of  her  time 
and  the  depth  of  my  siesta  !  I  was  surveying  my  numerous 
£nd  ingenious  adornments  when  a  peal  of  laughter  betrayed 
the  artificer's  lurking-place. 

Peeping  around  the  thick  trunk  of  the  chestnut,  she  sang 
out,  mockingly — 

"  Robin  Redbreast,  painful/y, 
Did  cover  him  with  leaves." 

Leaving  her  covert  she  danced  around  me,  delighting  in  the 
success  of  the  trick,  and  not  unlike  a  saucy  robin  in  her 
scarlet  sacque  and  russet  skirt. 

"You  can't  think  how  interesting  you  looked!  Do  you 
always  sleep  so  soundly  ?  You  didn't  budge  even  when  I 
put  on  your  bracelets.  It  was  Rip  Van  Winkle  over. again. 
You  might  not  have  waked  up  in  twenty  years  if  I  hadn't 
tickled  your  nose.  Here's  the  fellow  that  did  it ! "  showing  a 
long  switch  with  a  bunch  of  grass  tied  on  the  end.  "  How 
you  did  slap  at  him  ! " 

Overcome  by  the  recollection,  she  sank  down  to  laugh 
until  the  tears  started. 

"  Ailsie  ! "  I  uttered,  solemnly.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a 
woman  named  Delilah  ?  " 

"  Thought  of  her  all  the  time  1  was  dressing  you  up,  and 
burying  you  alive  ! "  she  declared.  "  If  I  could  have  found 
seven  green  withs  long  enough  to  bind  your  hands  and  feet, 
you  would  have  had  harder  work  to  get  out  of  your  patch- 
work shroud.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you,  young  gentleman, 
not  to  trust  the  feminine  sect !  " 


M Y  LITTLE  L  0  VE.  269 

"  Well !  what  do  you  think  of  Eden  ?  "  inquired  Aunt 
Evy,  that  evening,  when  we  had  displayed  our  spoils  of 
nuts,  flowers  and  painted  leaves. 

I  glanced  at  Ailsie,  who,  nowise  disconcerted,  made  a 
grimace  of  defiance. 

"  I  liked  Eden,"  I  responded,  slowly  and  mournfully. 
"I  had  no  fault  to  find  with  it,  nor  with  Eve,  until  she 
tricked  and  betrayed  me." 

"  Fifty-one,  fifty-two  !  "  counted  Ailsie  dropping  her  nuts 
into  a  tin  pan.  "  So,  I  am  Eve — am  I  ?  Fifty-three,  fifty- 
four.  Good  enough  !  I  expected  to  be  called  the  serpent !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOW   ONE    PROMISE   WAS    KEPT. 

HE  three  coldest  days  I  have  felt  within  my 
recollection  fell  on  Thanksgiving  Thursdays. 
One  of  these,  the  2  7th  of  November,  18 — , 
is   still   remembered    in   the    Northern   and 
Middle  States  by  the  elders  of  this  generation,  as 
having  been  exceptionally  and  most  unexpectedly 
severe. 

It  had  snowed  all  day  of  the  25th.  The  26th 
was  cloudy  and  "  soft,"  the  foot  of  snow  packing 
hard  of  its  own  weight,  as  it  grew  "  soggy."  We  arose  on 
Thursday  morning  to  find  it  frozen  solid  by  brisk  north- 
west winds.  The  sky  was  like  pale-blue  glass,  the  air  crisp 
and  sparkling.  But  nobody  spoke  of  unusual  cold  until  after 
the  nine  o'clock  bells  had  rung  for  the  early  service  which 
was  reckoned  a  convenience  in  some  churches  on  account 
of  the  rush  outward  from  the  city  in  later  trains,  thousands 
seeking  the  homes  of  their  rustic  forbears  on  this,  if  on  no 
other  anniversary. 

I  was  the  solitary  representative  of  my  father's  household 
at  church,    that  forenoon,   and,    instead   of  sustaining   the 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  2^l 

family  reputation  in  our  own  pew,  I  occupied  a  corner  in  a 
roomy  and  more  cheerful  one  in  the  sanctuary  in  which  the 
Darlings  worshipped.  Pressley  and  his  wife  were  there  and 
welcomed  me  with  silent  cordiality,  as  I  entered  the  seat. 
Robby,  now  a  fine  urchin  of  six,  smiled  broadly  and  reached 
a  chubby  hand  to  me  across  his  father's  knee.  We  four  sat 
out  the  simple,  fervent  service,  in  company,  but  I,  at  least,  iu 
less  thankfulness  and  content  than  if  the  vacant  place  at  my 
side  had  been  filled  as  I  hoped  and  expected  it  would  be. 
Ailsie's  right  to  sit  by  me,  to  sing  from  the  same  hook,  and, 
after  service,  to  walk  hand-in-hand  with  me  to  her  father's 
door,  was  so  well-established  by  precedent  that  nobody 
thought  of  remarking  upon  it. 

I  had  come  to  church  in  a.  pleasant — as  I  believed,  a 
devotional  mood,  that  Thanksgiving  day.  Six  months  be- 
fore, I  had,  thanks  to  the  influence  of  friends — Mr.  Darling 
among  them: — been  appointed  to  a  responsible  position  in  a 
large  hospital.  Every  day  since  had  made  its  mark  upon 
my  life.  For  the  first  time  I  had  the  opportunity  to  grapple 
at  close  quarters  with  disease,  and  wrestle  with  it  unhindered 
by  interference  from  those  who,  I  could  not  but  suspect 
often,  and  sometimes  know,  were  more  unfit  to  dictate  than 
was  I  to  act.  I  had  been  singularly  successful.  Men  of 
wisdom  and  experience  in  the  profession  began  to  speak  of 
it  to  me  and  to  others.  My  patients  were  grateful  and 
showed  me  that  they  were.  I  loved  my  work.  It  was 
prospering  in  my  hands.  It  was  meet  that  I  should  devote 
some  portion  of  this  holiday — and  holidays  were  rare  with 


272  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

me — to  acknowledgments  to  Him  who  had  brought  me  by 
large  and  gracious  paths  to  an  outlook  so  encouraging. 

I  was  disappointed  by  Ailsie's  absence.  I  had  engaged 
to  meet  her  at  church  and  dine  at  her  father's.  And  I  had 
a  story  to  tell  her  of  the  rapid  improvement  of  a  child  who 
had  been  brought  to  the  hospital  ten  days  ago.  She  was  a 
pretty  little  thing,  just  Ailsie's  age,  her  malady,  a  painful 
affection  of  the  hip.  In  the  appealing  yet  trustful  regards 
of  her  dark  eyes,  in  her  courage,  docility  and  innate  refine- 
ment, she  had  brought  my  little  love  to  my  mind  many 
times.  I  had  talked  to  her  of  Ailsie,  when  I  had  a  spare 
minute  in  which  I  could  sit  by  her  and  try  to  cheat  her  into 
forgetfulness  of  suffering  ;  had  promised  that  she  would  send 
her  books  and  flowers,  perhaps  write  to  her  a  charming  note, 
such  as  I  had  from  her  every  few  days.  I  had  even  showed 
her  the  ambrotype  set  in  a  locket,  which  I  always  carried 
in  my  breast-pocket,  attached  to  a  chain  of  silky-brown  hair, 
with  an  occasional  thread  of  gold  flashing  through  the 
braid.  I  had  begged  for  the  picture,  and  had  it  set.  The 
chain  was  my  birthday  present.  For  somebody  remembered 
and  made  festival  upon  my  birthdays  now. 

"  She  looks  sorrowful — somehow — out  of  her  eyes,"  Abby 
had  said,  after  a  protracted  scrutiny  of  the  miniature. 

"She  is  merry  as  the  day  is  long,"  I  answered  quickly. 

Others  had  made  a  similar  comment  upon  the  pictured 
eyes.  One  sentimental  cousin  of  mine  had  stated  oracularly, 
'•  that  a  lurking  melancholy  and  far-off  gaze  in  the  eye  were 
universally  regarded  as  a  presage  of  early  and  violent  death." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  2 73 

and  cited  Charles  I.  and  Major  Andre  as  examples  of  the 
truth  of  the  sign. 

I  had  never  admired  the  sentimental  cousin,  and  after  this 
speech,  I  mentally  added  a  want  of  common  sense  and  tact 
to  the  list  of  her  imperfections. 

I  did  not  like  Abby's  criticism  and  my  accent  probably 
betrayed  my  distaste,  for  she  said  :  "  I  beg  your  pardon  !  " 
in  her  old-womanish  way  and  hastened  to  tell  me  that  she 
"  was  sure  from  looking  at  her  that  the  young  lady  was 
beautiful  and  good." 

"  She  is  not  a  young  lady  yet,"  I  smiled.  "  She  will  not 
be  ten  years  old  until  Christmas  Eve.  But  she  is  good,  and 
to  my  eyes  beautiful.  She  is  my  dearest  friend,  for  all  she  is 
so  young." 

"  Christmas  Eve ! "  repeated  the  sick  child,  eagerly. 
"  Folks  born  on  Christmas  Eve  can  never  see  ghosts.  My 
grandmother  used  to  say  so." 

"  My  little  friend  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  I,  laugh- 
ing. "  For,  between  you  and  me,  she  is  easily  frightened. 
I  dare  say  she  was  brave  enough  naturally,  but  she  has  had 
two  or  three  bad  shocks.  One  from  a  drunken  man,  another 
during  a  thunderstorm.  These  have  shaken  her  nerves  a 
little.  But  she  will  outgrow  all  that.  You  young  people  get 
over  many  things  that  older  ones  could  not  bear." 

"  Where  is  Ailsie  ?  "  was  my  inquiry  of  her  father  before 
we  left  the  pew,  after  the  benediction.  "  Is  Aunt  Evy 
worse  ?  " 

"On  the  contrary,  she  is  remarkably  comfortable.     But 
12* 


2 74  MY  LITTLE  LOVES 

Wynant  was  in  town,  visiting  his  Dulcinea,  on  Monday,  and 
insisted  on  taking  Ailsie  back  with  him.  He  wanted  to 
teach  her  how  to  skate.  She  wanted  to  learn  and  her  grand- 
parents wanted  to  see  her,  so  we  let  her  go  upon  condition 
that  she  should  be  home  again  in  season  to  eat  her  thanks- 
giving dinner  with  us.  The  supposition  that  she  could  be 
storm-stayed  for  three  days  at  this  season  never  occurred  to 
us.  So  heavy  a  fall  of  snow  in  November  is  phenomenal  in 
this  latitude." 

In  the  church  porch  we  were  met  by  a  breeze  that  cut 
like  a  razor.  A  steady  wind  swept  down  the  street — not 
blusteringly — but  with  even  persistence  that  was  more  cruel. 
A  thermometer  hung  without  the  door  of  the  nearest  drug- 
shop,  and  Pressley  stepped  aside  to  consult  it. 

"  A  fall  of  twenty  degrees  in  an  hour-and-a-half !  "  he  said 
with  a  whistle.  "  Sharp  work  that ! " 

Aunt  Evy  met  us  in  the  hall  when  we  got  home — pale  and 
anxious. 

"  You  don't  imagine  that  harum-scarum  boy  Wynant  will 
think  of  bringing  Ailsie  across  the  country  in  this  fierce 
weather,  do  you  ?  "  she  asked  of  her  brother-in-law. 

He  looked  actually  vexed  at  the  suggestion. 

"  Give  my  father  and  mother  credit  for  some  grains  of 
common  sense,  if  Wynant  is  hare-brained  and  in  love  !  "  he 
said.  "  Do  you  think  that  they  would  trust  the  child  in  an 
open  sleigh,  for  a  thirty-mile  drive  with  the  thermometer 
below  zero  ?  " 

Miss  Mart  drew  a  relieved  breath. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  275 

"  I  might  have  been  sure  of  that,  for  myself.  But  recol- 
lecting that  Wynant  is  in  love  with  our  fair  neighbor,  and 
presumably  supplied  with  inward  heat  enough  to  enable  him 
to  attempt  the  north-west  passage  without  danger  of  freezing, 
and  how  positively  Ailsie  promised  to  dine  with  us  to-day — 
But  there  is  no  rhyme — or  reason,  which  is  rarer — in  torment- 
ing you  as  I  have  tormented  myself  ever  since  the  mercury 
of  the  thermometer  in  the  library  began  to  fall.  What  a 
bitter  day  for  Thanksgiving  !  Heaven  pity  the  poor,  and 
those  who  travel  by  sea  or  land  !  " 

There  were  roaring  fires  in  both  parlors  and  in  the  dining- 
room,  which  was  en  suite  with  them.  Sitting  about  the 
hearth  in  the  front  room,  we  could  see  the  glitter  of  the 
flames  in  three  fire-places,  and  reflected  in  as  many  mirrors. 
Yet  the  ladies  sent  for  shawls  and  kept  the  children  between 
them,  as  near  the  grate  as  they  dared  push  them  without 
scorching  their  holiday  attire,  while  Pressley  and  I  checked 
ourselves  every  few  minutes  in  the  act  of  rubbing  our  hands 
as  we  had  been  obliged  to  do  in  the  street  to  maintain 
equable  circulation.  The  wind  got  into  the  house  and  at  us 
through  a  hundred  hitherto  unsuspected  chinks  and  cracks. 
There  were  icy  rills  of  draughts  that  crept  down  the  backs 
of  our  necks,  and  boldly  nipping  airs  that  wrung  our  noses 
to  the  sneezing-point,  and  others  still  that  played  the  mis- 
chief with  our  toes. 

It  was  not  until  Pressley  had  visited  the  cellar  in  person 
to  adjust  every  valve  below  and  opened  every  register  on  the 
first  floor,  and  the  waves  of  invisible  heat  almost  out-roared  the 


276  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

flames  in  the  chimney,  that  we  could,  with  the  most  amiable 
desire  to  seem  comfortable,  begin  to  talk  of  anything  except 
the  terrific  weather. 

"  It  was  kind  in  you  to  come  to  us  in  spite  of  Ailsie's 
absence,"  said  Aunt  Evy,  ceasing  to  chafe  Robby's  red  fin- 
gers and  bidding  him  spread  them  for  himself,  before  the  blaze. 
"  Our  chagrin  at  her  non-arrival  would  have  been  redoubled 
had  you  also  failed  us.  Dear  little  Chippy !  much  as  we  miss 
her,  not  one  of  us  feels  the  trial  as  she  does.  She  left  all  man- 
ner of  messages  with  me  for  you.  One  was  that  she  "  didn't 
believe  she  could  have  gone  even  to  grandpa's,  had  she  not 
been  sure  that  you  could  not  get  off  from  the  hospital  before 
Thursday." 

"  I  told  her  so,  on  Sunday,"  I  replied.  "  She  forgets 
nothing,  and  nobody." 

"Certainly  never  her  overgrown  sweetheart,"  said  her 
father.  "  Were  she  one  whit  less  affectionate  to  me,  I  could 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  be  jealous  of  you,  sometimes.  When 
do  you  two  mean  to  stop  this  farce  of  love-making  ?  She 
will  be  a  tall  girl  in  a  couple  of  years  more.  Before  you 
know  it,  she  will  pitch  you  adrift  in  favor  of  some  callowling 
of  sweet  seventeen,  who  is  just  convalescing  from  the 
"  goslings." 

"  I  won't  borrow  trouble,"  I  rejoined.  "  It  will  be  time 
enough,  '  all  around  my  hat  to  wear  a  green  willow,'  when 
she  jilts  me.  I  shall  give  the  green  gosling  a  fight  before  I 
abandon  the  field  to  him." 

"Ailsie  likes   goslings,"  interjected   Robby,    intelligently 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  2^^ 

intent  upon  our  discourse,  and  quite  equal  to  the  theme. 
"  She  had  a  tame  one  at  Brightwood,  in  the  summer-time. 
She  used  to  carry  it  about  in  her  apron  and  pet  it  because  it 
had  a  lame  foot,  and  the  others  pecked  it,  'specially  the  banty 
roosters.  1  guess  it's  turned  to  a  great  ugly  goose  by  now." 

"  They  will  do  it,  dear ! "  Aunt  Evy  stroked  the  face 
turned  from  one  to  another  in  blank  amaze  at  the  shout  of 
laughter  evoked  by  his  innocent  venture.  "  That's  a  very 
common  fault  with  goslings,  you  may  tell  Dr.  Haye.  They 
won't  stay  nice  and  yellow,  and  downy." 

"  Like  the  callowling's  beard,"  said  I,  ostentatiously  caress- 
ing my  extremely  satisfactory  whiskers.  "I  am  sorry  that 
you  all  have  not  a  juster  estimate  of  Ailsie's  taste.  But  time 
will  vindicate  it." 

By  the  time  the  hands  of  the  mantel  clock  pointed  to 
twelve,  we  were  so  far  thawed  out  as  to  exhibit  lively  interest 
in  the  movements  of  the  sparsely  scattered  pedestrians,  who 
hurried  by  our  windows,  their  shoulders  and  ears  on  a  level, 
and,  oftener  than  not,  both  hands  bound  over  the  latter. 
We  were  not  yet  so  embruted  by  prosperity  as  to  find  food 
for  merriment  in  their  misery. 

"  It  is  a  matter  for  anxious  speculation  what  can  take  them 
abroad  when  all  sensible  people  are  supposed  to  be  housed 
for  the  day,  making  ready  to  devour  their  own  or  their 
neighbor's  turkey,"  philosophized  Aunt  Evy.  "  Hark  !  there 
are  the  first  sleigh-bells  I  have  heard  in  three  hours.  Who 
but  a  lunatic  or  a  native  Nova  Zemblan  can  be  on  pleasure 
bent  to-day  ?  " 


278  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VS. 

With  one  impulse  of  curiosity,  we  all  crowded  about  the 
window,  for  the  bells  were  tinkling  wildly,  madly,  through  our 
street. 

I  heard  a  groan,  very  like  an  imprecation,  from  Mr.  Darl- 
ing, before  I  had  a  view  of  a  sleigh  heaped  with  wolf-robes 
drawn  up  to  the  curb-stone,  and  a  figure  alighting  from  it. 
Yet  I  reached  it  first,  dashed  down  the  furs  and  lifted  my 
darling  out  in  my  arms. 

"  She's  all  right !  a  perfect  trump  !  "  cried  Wynant,  gayly. 
"  The  gamiest  little  one  ever  made  1 " 

I  passed  him  in  silence.  I  had  no  time  or  strength  for 
speech,  for  the  weight  I  bore  was  limp  and  heavy  as  one 
just  dead. 

"  In  here  ! "  gasped  the  mother  from  the  parlor-door. 

I  laid  her  instead  upon  the  sofa  in  her  father's  library  as 
the  coldest  room  on  that  floor.  With  all  my  horrified  haste 
I  could  recollect  how  we  had  been  hugging  the  fire  for  two 
hours  as  the  only  source  of  comfort.  The  child's  features 
were  muffled  in  a  double  veil.  My  hands  trembled  in  tear- 
ing it  off.  What  should  I  see  ? 

Her  eyes  were  open  ;  her  face  blenched  into  frosted  blood- 
lessness,  her  lips  rigid  and  blue.  But  she  looked  at  me  !  I 
saw  this,  although  the  others  did  not,  and  composure,  at 
which  I  now  marvel,  possessed  me,  quieted  nerve — almost 
quelled  apprehension.  Professional  instinct  and  address 
rallied  in  support  of  my  calmness.  There  are  no  more  faith- 
ful handmaidens  of  the  will,  when  they  have  been  cultivated 
into  a  second  nature. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  279 

"  She  is  conscious  !  "  I  said.  "  She  will  be  better  soon. 
Mr.  Darling,  will  you  help  me  carry  her  up  to  bed  at  once  ? 
Let  nobody  but  her  mother  come  with  us." 

Wynant  was  sobbing  like  a  big  baby  when,  at  two  o'clock,  I 
carried  the  tidings  down-stairs  that  Ailsie  had  passed  from  the 
paroxysm  of  dumb  nausea  succeeding  the  deadly  chill,  into 
natural  warmth  and  sleep,  and  that,  while  lapsing  into  this, 
she  had  been  induced  to  swallow  a  few  spoonfuls  of  hot  soup. 

Aunt  Evy  had  been  striving  to  console  the  author  of  the 
mischief,  herself  pallid  as  a  ghost,  wan  and  aged  as  by  a 
month's  illness. 

"  Is  she  out  of  danger  ?  "  she  asked  of  me,  directly,  her 
eyes  compelling  the  truth. 

"  I  hope — I  believe  so.  Unless  inflammation  and  fever 
should  supervene." 

"  Don't  say  there  is  a  doubt  of  it  !  "  groaned  Wynant, 
dropping  his  head  again  into  his  hands.  "  If  you  don't  want 
me  to  go  out  and  hang  myself !  Or  blow  out  my  brains  !  " 

"  Perhaps  before  you  indulge  in  either  recreation,  you  will 
be  kind  enough  to  tell  us  how  you  reconciled  it  with  your 
conscience  to  risk  the  child's  life  to  gratify  your  own  selfish 
desires  !  "  said  his  brother,  severely,  beginning  to  pace  the 
room  with  great  strides. 

We  all  understood  what  Pressley"s  carpet  and  lawn 
promenades  meant,  and  the  gleaming  eyes  that  went  with 
the  compressed  lips. 

Wynant  was  too  humble  to  take  offence ;  very  grateful 
for  the  opportunity  to  explain  that  he  was  less  culpable  than 


28o  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

would  appear  from  circumstantial  evidence.  He  had  at- 
tempted to  fulfil  his  engagement  to  bring  Ailsie  home  on  the 
preceding  day.  The  roads  were  well  broken  for  sleighs  for 
a  couple  of  miles  beyond  his  father's  outer  gates.  There 
was  no  misgiving,  even  in  the  mind  of  the  prudent  old  squire, 
of  any  probable  difficulty  in  making  the  thirty  miles  in  five 
hours.  Accordingly,  Wynant  left  the  farm-house  door  at 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  with  his  precious  charge,  in 
a  strong  sleigh  with  two  excellent  horses.  Before  they  had 
gone  three  miles,  they  ran  into  a  heavily-drifted  road  over 
which  nothing  but  a  few  wheeled  vehicles  had  passed  since 
the  snowstorm.  The  horses  had  to  walk  every  step, 
floundering  badly  at  times,  and  often  stopping  to  rest.  The 
damp  snow  clogged  their  feet,  and  the  runners,  and  the 
climax  of  impediments  was  reached  in  the  crushing  of  an 
iron  stay  running  across  the  bottom  of  the  cutter,  by  violent 
collision  with  a  stone  buried  out  of  sight  in  the  drift. 

The  passengers  were  thrown  out,  but  fortunately  escaped 
injury.  The  horses  behaved  well,  and  Wynant  did  not  lose 
hold  of  the  reins.  Laying  a  fur  robe  over  the  back  of  the 
gentler  horse  of  the  two,  he  brushed  the  snow  from  Ailsie' s 
cloak,  and  set  her  upon  the  improvised  saddle,  holding  her 
in  her  place  while  with  the  other  arm  he  guided  the  obedient 
animal.  In  this  awkward  style,  with  the  broken  sleigh  drag- 
ging at  the  horses'  heels,  they  tramped  for  a  mile  down  a 
side-road  to  his  brother  Richard's  house.  Once  there,  the 
aspect  of  their  fortunes  was  changed.  They  were  warmly 
received,  and  the  series  of  mischances  that  had  cast  them 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  281 

upon  the  hospitality  of  their  entertainers  was  declared  to  be 
a  providential  interposition  in  favor  of  the  latter.  The  sleigh 
was  repaired  by  night-fall  at  the  nearest  blacksmith's.  The 
brothers  enjoyed  a  family  confabulation  over  their  pipes  in 
the  evening,  and  Ailsie  was  merry  with  her  favorite  Rick  and 
a  host  of  younger  cousins.  All  agreed  that  the  sleighing  would 
be  much  finer  on  the  morrow  and  that  they  could,  as  Wynant 
phrased  it,  "  slip  down  to  the  city  in  less  than  no  time." 

With  the  morning  and  the  changed  temperature  arose 
serious  deliberations  as  to  the  expediency  of  continuing  the 
interrupted  journey. 

"  I  won't  deny  that  I  wanted  to  get  on  for  my  own  sake," 
said  the  young  uncle,  coloring.  "  But  you  must  believe  me 
— all  of  you — when  I  declare  that  I  should  not  have  budged 
a  foot  in  a  month,  if  I  had  had  the  most  distant  fear  of  what 
has  happened.  Ailsie  was  in  a  suppressed  agony  of  impa- 
tience to  be  off.  She  was  too  anxious  as  to  the  result  of  the 
discussions  pro  and  con,  to  eat  her  breakfast,  or  to  speak 
one  uncalled-for  word.  When  it  was,  at  last,  decided  that 
we  should  wait  an  hour  or  two  to  see  whether  the  extreme 
cold  would  not  abate,  she  waylaid  me  in  the  hall,  and  begged, 
as  for  her  life,  that  we  might  set  out  immediately. 

"'I  wouldn't  miss  Thanksgiving-day  at  home,  for  one  thou- 
sand dollars,'  she  said.  '  It  drives  me  wild  to  think  of  their 
all  sitting  down  to  the  table  at  dinner,  with  my  empty  chair 
staring  them  in  the  face.  It  will  be  almost  as  bad  as  if  I 
were  dead.  You  don't  know  how  fast  and  firm  I  promised 
to  be  there,  Uncle  Wy  !  I  said  to  Aunt  Evy — "  I  shall  be 


282  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

home  on  Thanksgiving  if  I  have  to  crawl  all  the  way  on  my 
hands  and  knees."  They  can't  help  being  uneasy,  after  that, 
if  I  don't  come.  Mamma  will  be  miserable.  She  will  think 
I'm  sick  or  that  something  dreadful  has  happened.  She 
knows  I  never  break  my  word  to  her.  And  what's  to  hurt 
me?  Uncle  Richard  and  Aunt  Sophy  don't  know  how 
strong  I  am,  and  that  I  never  mind  the  cold.  Ifs  perfectly 
glorious  weather  and  we  will  have  a  jolly  jaunt.  Uncle  Rich- 
ard says  himself  that  the  sleighing  is  superb.' 

"You  know  how  she  said  it !  Her  fingers  punishing  one 
another,  nervously,  her  eyes  speaking  as  eloquently  as  her 
tongue,  her  face  alive  with  such  beseeching  as  would  turn  the 
heart  of  a  nether  mill-stone.  There  is  no  use  talking  about 
it !  She  could  wheedle  me  out  of  my  eyes  if  she  chose  to 
try  the  experiment.  What  she  urged  seemed  reasonable  too. 
I  took  a  turn  around  the  house  to  try  the  air  for  myself.  It  was 
very  cold,  but  the  sun  was  bright,  and  the  wind  gave  no  sign  of 
rising  higher.  Indeed,  it  had  gone  down  within  the  last 
hour. 

"  I  returned  to  the  sitting-room  and  told  Sophy  to  get  all 
the  bottles  of  hot  water  and  blankets  she  could  spare  and 
pack  Ailsie  up  for  the  ride,  for  1  meant  to  eat  my  Thanks- 
giving dinner  in  town.  Of  course  there  was  a  hubbub. 
There  always  is  over  Ailsie.  Knowing  this,  I,  maybe,  paid 
less  attention  to  it  than  I  should  have  done.  She  was  in 
tip-top  spirits.  You  wouldn't  have  thought  she  could  ever 
be  cold  again  if  you  had  seen  her  color  and  dancing  eyes 
when  we  got  her  into  the  sleigh  at  half-past  nine. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  283 

"Rick  couldn't  get  over  what  he  chose  to  look  upon  as 
her  wilful  desertion  of  him. 

"  '  Better  change  your  mind  at  the  last  gasp  !'  he  said  lean- 
ing on  the  side  of  the  sleigh  as  I  gathered  up  the  reins. 
'  That  town-fellow  doesn't  care  half  as  much  for  you  as  I  do.' 

"  '  That  shows  how  much  mistaken  a  wise  boy  can  be,'  she 
answered  saucily. 

" '  You  won't  see  him  to-day,  at  all  events,'  he  went  on. 
'  I  have  a  presentiment  that  he  will  be  off  pleasuring  with 
some  other  girl.  He's  a  shifty  chap,  I  know  from  his  looks.' 

"  '  Speak  more  respectfully  of  your  elders  and  superiors, 
young  man!'  with  immense  dignity.  'Uncle  Wy,  we  are 
losing  time,  listening  to  \&*  flummery!* 

"  'You  will  be  sorry  for  your  hardness  of  heart  when  your 
blood  begins  to  freeze,'  was  Rick's  parting  shot.  '  I  shall 
expect  to  see  you  back  in  less  than  an  hour,  crying  with  the 
cold — your  lap  full  of  tear-drops  turned  to  ice.' 

" '  I'll  die  before  I'll  complain  ! '  she  called  out,  and  we 
were  off. 

"The  horses  travelled  finely,  and  driving  kept  me  warmer, 
no  doubt,  than  she  could  be,  sitting  perfectly  still,  and  so 
bundled  ap  that  she  couldn't  have  moved  if  she  had  tried.  I 
proposed,  several  times,  that  we  should  stop  and  give  up  the 
trip  for  to-day,  or  get  out  to  warm,  but  she  would  not  con- 
sent to  either  plan.  We  did  not  talk  much  during  the  last 
ten  miles.  The  wind  was  keen  in  our  teeth  and  took  away 
our  breath  when  we  opened  our  mouths.  Now  and  then  I 
asked  if  she  were  comfortable,  and  had  the  same  answer, 


2 84  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

always  :  '  I  am  doing  very  well,  thank  you  ! '  The  last  time 
I  spoke  to  her  it  was — '  Don't  worry  about  me,  please,  Uncle 
Wy!' 

"  How  was  I  to  guess  that  she  was  freezing,  and  hiding  her 
suffering  ?  " 

Pressley  still  walked  the  floor  with  measured  tread,  but  his 
hand  went  up  to  his  mouth  again  and  again,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  narrative. 

"  The  brave  darling ! "  murmured  Aunt  Evy,  betwixt 
smiles  and  tears.  "  There  never  was  one  of  the  name  of 
more  heroic  spirit,  Pressley.  We  must  not  scold  her  when 
she  awakes — " 

For  the  second  time  that  day  he  turned  sharply  upon  her. 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  Nobody  but  a  brute  could 
blame  her.  She  w.ould  be  faithful  unto  death,  to  her  word, 
and  to  those  whom  she  loves.  Forgive  my  hasty  judgment 
and  words,  Wynant.  In  your  place  I  should  have  acted  as 
you  did.  But  let  it  be  a  lesson  to'  us  all  for  the  future.  No 
more  pledges  from,  or  unreasonable  demands  upon  her  affec- 
tion and  conscience  ! " 

The  early  dinner  was  a  success  so  far  as  cookery  was  con- 
cerned. Conversation  was  as  palpably  a  failure.  Mr.  Dar- 
ling carved  in  absolute  silence.  Aunt  Evy  and  Wynant 
feigned  to  chat  in  a  semi-confidential  key.  Nobody  save 
Robby  and  the  wee  sister  brought  to  the  feast  an  appetite 
worthy  of  the  name. 

As  for  me,  I  was  sick  with  a  sort  of  nervous  depression 
hitherto  unknown  to  me  even  in  my  early  hospital  training. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  285 

What-might-have-been  was  a  chill  shadow  in  which  I  cow- 
ered, shivering  and  horror-stricken.  Against  rny  will,  I 
rehearsed  the  scenes  of  the  noon-tide.  My  first  sight  of  the 
sleigh  and  its  occupants,  the  terror  winging  the  steps  that 
outran  even  the  father's  frenzy.  The  awful  weight  of  my 
darling's  helplessness  as  I  lifted  her  from  the  seat — a  burden 
that  pressed  hope  out  of  my  bosom  on  the  passage  to  the 
library ;  the  livid  complexion  and  the  fixed  gaze  of  the  large 
eyes  ;  the  stilled  pulse  in  the  limp  wrist ;  the  gasp  of  pain 
that  marked  the  revival  of  circulation  in  limbs  and  heart. 

Would  these  haunt  me  all  night  ?  Would  they  follow  me 
into  the  dreams  of  years  to  come,  always  to  gloom  me  with 
the  memory  of  the  death  that  had  so  nearly  been  ? 

"  Excuse  me,  if  you  please  !  "  I  said  abruptly,  when  the 
dessert  was  set  on. 

Ailsie's  empty  chair  did  not  stare  me  in  the  face  as  she  had 
dreaded.  Aunt  Evy  had  privily  ordered  it  to  be  removed, 
and  the  gap  filled  up  by  scattering  the  rest  on  that  side 
farther  apart.  But  her  frost-white  face  floated  between  me 
and  my  plate.  I  could  not  get  away  from  the  imagination  of 
the  patient  accents  in  which  she  must  have  said,  with  the  mortal 
agony  upon  her — "  Don't  worry  about  me,  Uncle  Wy  !  " 

And  he,  in  selfish  absorption  in  his  love-fancies,  drawing 
nearer  to  the  woman  he  adored,  with  every  stroke  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  upon  the  rock-hard  snow,  remarked  neither 
patience  nor  pain. 

"I'll  die  before  I'll  complain  !"  the  dauntless  little  crea- 
ture had  engaged  for  herself.  He  had  taken  her  at  her  word. 


286  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

GOD  might  forgive  him  as  he  bent  his  handsome  face  toward 
the  woman  of  gentle  face  and  heart  beside  him,  and  talked  of 
everyday  topics  in  everyday  tones,  and  sometimes  with  a 
smile !  I  never  would.  I  did  not  want  to  judge  him  merci- 
fully. He  had  showed  no  ruth  to  her  tender  years  ;  had  not 
been  touched  to  pity  and  admiration  by  her  fortitude.  I 
must  insult  him  by  word  or  blow  if  I  did  not  get  me  out  of  his 
presence.  All  were  surprised  when  I  arose  with  my  blunt 
request.  I  must  have  looked  something  of  the  savageness  I 
felt,  for  there  was  dismayed  inquiry  in  Aunt  Ev/s  eyes  as 
she  answered : 

"  Certainly,  Barry,  if  you  wish  to  leave  us.  Are  you  not 
well  ?  " 

"  Quite  well — but  not  hungry  ;  I  thought — "  softening 
instinctively  to  her — "that  I  would  go  up  and  relieve  Mrs. 
Darling.  She  will  be  faint.  Moreover,  I  want  to  see  how 
my  patient  is  getting  on." 

"  He  hasn't  eaten  a  bit  of  plum-pudding  or  pumpkin  pie. 
And  there's  ice-cream  coming  !  "  uttered  Robby,  with  gaping 
eyes  and  mouth. 

Nobody  smiled.  I  was  not  equal  to  so  much  as  an  attempt 
to  seem  amused. 

Wynant  started  up.  "I  say!  can't  I  go  in  your  place? 
I'm  not  a  doctor.  But  I  ought  to  be  doing  something,  or 
going  somewhere  for  her,  you  know." 

I  put  him  aside  with  a  gesture  that  was  sufficiently  express- 
ive, for  they  did  not  hinder  me,  after  that. 

Which  was  all  I  asked  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WITCH-HAZEL. 

HERE  was  a  window  upon  the  landing  of  the 
stairs.     I  paused  there  for  a  moment.     The 
pale-blue  sky  was   yellow   and  hard  at  the 
lower  edge,  where  a  frozen-looking  sun  was 
taking  leave  of  the  world  he  had  done  so  little  to 
benefit,  that  day.     The  wind  had  fallen,  but  the 
cruel  cold  held  fast  to  all  it  had  made  its  own 
during  the  eight  hours  of  its  reign.     The  snow 
sparkled  with  millions  of  freshly-formed  crystals  ; 
the    icicles  fringing  eaves  and  gutters  had    not 
dripped  from  morning  until  evening. 

"  '  Who  can  stand  before  His  cold  ? '"  I  repeated,  involun- 
tarily. 

View  and  quotation  incensed  me  the  more  against  the 
handsome  scaramouch  I  had  left  down-stairs.  The  impatient 
muttering  with  which  I  turned  from  the  casement  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Holy  Writ. 

Mrs.  Darling  opened  the  chamber-door  at  my  low  tap, 
and  when  I  had  satisfied  her,  after  brief  inspection  of  the 
sleeper,  that  she  was  doing  well,  she  yielded  to  my  wish  that 
she  should  leave  me  in  charge. 


288  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

At  last,  I  could  be  quiet  enough  for  thought  and  for  the 
analyzation  of  feelings  the  might  and  tumult  of  which 
bewildered  me.  At  last — I  said  it  with  exultation  that 
trenched  upon  fierceness — I  had-  my  darling  all  to  my- 
self. 

I  took  the  chair  vacated  by  her  mother,  and  watched  her 
in  the  fast-fading  light  of  the  winter  afternoon.  She  lay  in 
an  attitude  that  was  inexpressibly  graceful,  her  face  turned 
toward  me,  her  hand  under  her  cheek.  The  waves  of  dark 
hair  swept  away  from  her  forehead,  and  the  noble  contour  of 
head  and  features  was  thrown  into  relief  by  the  white  pillow. 
"  Peerless,"  I  had  named  her  long  ago.  Seeing  her  thus  ; 
recalling  her  gifts  of  mind,  heart  and  manner ;  dwelling, 
until  my  heart  swelled  to  aching,  upon  her  heroism,  her  fond 
faithful  love,  manifested  so  clearly,  and  for  so  long  toward 
me — the  truth  unfolded  itself  to  me.  I  deceived  myself  no 
longer — I  never  could  delude  my  heart  again  with  the  belief 
that  the  affection  I  bore  her  was,  as  her  father  had  styled  it, 
"  a  farce."  The  event  of  the  day  and  the  agitation  it  had 
engendered  within  me — the  anguish  of  suspense,  the  joy  of 
relief,  the  indignation  against  the  carelessness  that  had 
endangered  the  precious  life,  the  welling  tide  of  tenderness 
flowing  toward  her  from  the  depths  of  my  being,  as  I  looked 
upon  her  now,  living,  safe,  and  in  my  loving  keeping,  these 
were  revelations  that  needed  no  key. 

Freely  and  minutely  as  I  have  related  the  rise  and  growth 
of  our  two  years'  intimacy,  and  the  many  circumstances 
that  had  combined  to  divide  me  from  the  associates  I  might 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  289 

naturally  have  been  expected  to  seek,  and  to  bind  me  to  my 
stanch  little  ally,  there  are  those  among  my  readers  who  will 
smile  derisively  when  I  say  that,  then  and  there,  I  knew  be- 
yond peradventure  that,  child  or  woman,  this  ten-year-old-girl 
was  made  for  me  and  I  for  her,  and  that  in  the  conviction,  my 
whole  soul  went  out  to  her  in  yearnings  none  other  could 
satisfy — in  allegiance  never  to  be  revoked.  I  bowed  in  the 
presence  of  my  new  hope,  my  new  joy,  my  new  life,  as  before 
the  visible  angel  of  blessing.  I  had  stepped  from  the  world 
of  formulated  duty  and  conventional  ambition  into  one  where 
love  was  law,  where  all  I  should  hereafter  be,  or  achieve,  was 
for  love's  sake.  I  anticipated,  with  thrilling  pulses,  the  fresh 
delight  of  watching  the  development  of  mind  and  character 
into  a  glory  of  perfected  womanhood  such  as  the  world 
seldom  sees  ;  the  certain  and  closer  knitting  of  the  bands  of 
mutual  affection.  I  thought  how  the  dross  and  dregs  of  my 
character  must  pass  away  in  the  association  with  a  nature  so 
pure  and  fine  as  hers ;  how,  as  all  that  was  base  in  me  now 
stood  rebuked  before  the  holy  light  of  her  eyes,  and  what- 
ever was  worthy  incited  me  to  the  attainment  of  such  true 
nobility  as  might  justify  her  belief  in  and  love  for  me,  the 
good  work  would  the  more  surely  go  on  until  I  became  her 
soul-mate. 

In  all  my  dreams  there  was  no  foreshadowing  of  a  day 
when  she  might  shrink  from  me  who  had  loved  her  always, 
and  for  refuge  from  the  might  of  a  devotion  she  had  not 
fathomed  because  it  had  grown  with  her  to  strength  and 
maturity,  into  the  arms  of  a  younger,  and  gayer  lover.  I  do 


290  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

not  comprehend  why  the  fear  was  not  there.  Perhaps 
because  having  been  conscious  of  her  growing  nearness  to  me 
during  each  succeeding  month  and  week,  I  could  not  admit 
the  possibility  of  retrogression  in  a  nature  so  true  and  stable. 

Perhaps — 

"  Has  she  slept  quietly  ?  "  The  soft  voice  went  through 
me  like  a  galvanic  shock. 

I  had  not  heard  Mrs.  Darling  enter.  1  had  not  observed 
that  the  moon  was  shining  in  at  the  window,  and  that  day- 
light had  gone.  I  could  trace  the  outline  of  the  pure  face 
upon  the  pillow,  with  its  framing  of  dark  hair.  My  eyes 
and  thoughts  were  for  that  alone. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.     "  Most  peacefully." 

The  mother  laid  her  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 

"  It  terrifies  me  to  think  what  mistakes  we  might  have 
made,  how  fatally  misapplied  restoratives,  but  for  the  seeming 
accident  of  your  being  here.  We  can  never  thank  Our 
Heavenly  Father  as  we  should  that  you  were  with  us  to-day, 
and  retained  your  self-command,  when  we  lost  ours.  Never 
repay  you  for  your  great  goodness  to  us  and  to  her — our 
precious  one  !  " 

"  It  is  nothing  !  less  than  nothing  !  "  responded  I  hastily. 

It  irked  me  that  I  should  be  thanked  for  services  due  and 
joyfully  rendered  to  my  own. 

"  I  question  if  even  you  appreciate  how  dear  she  is  in  our 
sight,"  resumed  Mrs.  Darling,  without  withdrawing  her  gaze 
from  the  pillowed  head.  "  There  has  been  something  pecu- 
liarly lovely  and  interesting  about  her  from  babyhood.  At 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  291 

least,  to  us.  You  must  wonder  sometimes  at  our  apparent 
favoritism." 

This  I  could  not  bear. 

"  She  is  as  dear  to  me,"  I  said,  curtly.  "  You  do  not 
believe  this,  now — "  for  she  had  turned  her  face  to  me  in 
mild  surprise.  "You  will,  some  day  !" 

Not  even  a  vague  perception  of  my  meaning  could  have 
reached  the  mother's  mind.  Yet,  her  instincts  touched  to 
natural  alarm  by  my  vehement  speech,  she  leaned  toward 
the  bed  in  silence,  for  an  instant,  the  attitude  of  a  bird 
cherishing  or  protecting  her  young. 

I  had  been  recklessly  imprudent,  but  the  endeavor  to  re- 
pair the  mistake  would  only  make  it  more  palpable.  I  had 
resigned  my  chair  to  Mrs.  Darling  and  now  stood  at  her 
back,  dreading  yet  longing  for  the  next  words. 

She  sat  upright  with  a  struggling  sigh — then  a  little  laugh. 

"  And  you  will  know  better  some  day,  Barry.  No  friend- 
ship, however  sincere  and  strong,  can  vie  with  parental 
love." 

As  if  aroused  by  the  last  word,  the  recumbent  figure  stirred 
and  spoke. 

"  Mamma  dear  !  is  that  you  ?  " 

I  had  stepped  back  to  the  head  of  the  bed,  out  of  eye- 
range. 

"  I  am  not  sick — am  I  ?  "  was  the  next  question. 

"  No,  my  love.  You  were  so  cold  and  tired  when  you  got 
home,  that  we  thought  a  long  nap  would  be  the  best  thing 
for  you.  You  are  quite  comfortable — are  you  not  ?  " 


«92  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  Yes,  only  my  hands  and  feet  burn  and  ache.  Not  very 
badly,  though.  Mamma  !  "  fastening  eagerly  upon  her  hand, 
and  speaking  in  a  low,  awed  tone.  "  I  thought  I  should 
never  get  home  alive.  The  cold  was  fearful !  I  kept  pray- 
ing, constantly,  after  Uncle  Wy  said  we  were  half-way  to 
town,  that  GOD  would  let  me  see  you  again,  and  help  me 
not  to  Complain.  By  the  time  we  got  in  sight  of  the  church- 
steeples,  I  felt  the  cold  creeping  up  to  my  heart.  I  knew  if 
it  touched  that  I  must  die,  and  I  tried  hard  to  keep  it  warm 
by  thinking  of  you  all  and  loving  you  with  all  my  might.  GOD 
is  very  good  !  " 

A  pause  neither  of  the  listeners  could  end. 

"Mamma!"  spoke  the  sweet  tones  again.  "Did  I 
dream  it,  or  was  Mr.  Barry  here  when  we  stopped  at  the 
door?  I  thought  he  brought  me  into  the  house.  I  couldn't 
speak.  Something  ailed  my  tongue.  But  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  heard  his  voice  and  saw  his  face." 

"  You  did,  dear."  The  poor  mother  strove  in  vain  to 
answer  steadily.  "  But  for  him,  we  should  hardly  have 
known  what  to  do  for .  you,  you  were  so  chilled  and  weak. 
Here  he  is  now,  as  thankful  as  are  the  rest  of  us  to  see  you 
so  much  better." 

The  darling  held  up  her  mouth  for  a  kiss,  retained  my 
hand  and  motioned  me  to  a  seat  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  I  was  certain  you  would  dine  with  us  on  Thanksgiving 
Day !  "  she  said  in  tranquil  satisfaction.  "  I  told  Rick  you 
never  broke  your  word  to  me.  I  kept  my  promise,  too. 
That  was  right,  wasn't  it  ?  "  struck  by  our  significant  silence. 


MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE.  2 93 

"Mamma!  I  ought  to  have  come,  oughtn't  I,  when  I  had 
promised '?  Mr.  Barry  !  was  I  wrong  to  beg  Uncle  Wy  to 
bring  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  never  wrong  ?  "  I  pressed  the  hot  hands  to  my 
lips.  "  But  we  will  not  trust  you  in  the  country  in  the 
winter  again.  You  shall  tell  us  about  your  visit,  by-and-by. 
I  am  going  to  send  papa  up  to  you,  now.  He  wanted  to 
be  called  as  soon  as  you  were  awake." 

We  had  a  lively  evening,  after  all.  Ailsie  was  dressed 
and  brought  down  to  the  parlor  in  her  father's  arms,  where 
she  lay  in  high  state,  on  a  sofa,  drawn  into  the  centre  of  the 
room.  We  took  tea  about  her,  Robby  and  baby  having 
theirs  upon  a  broad  cricket  on  the  hearth-rug.  Our  queen's 
eyes  were  brilliant  with  enjoyment,  taking  in  every  feature 
of  the  novel  grouping.  Her  laugh  rang  out — happy  and 
mischievous  by  turns,  as  she  talked  with  the  children,  or 
bandied  repartee  with  her  father  and  uncle.  To  me  she  was 
winning  and  loving  beyond  her  wont,  beckoning  me  to  the 
place  of  honor  at  the  back  of  her  lounge,  within  reach  of  her 
hand,  then  inquiring,  as  an  anxious  second  thought,  if  I 
would  take  cold  there  with  her  between  me  and  the  fire  ? 

One  and  all,  we  waited  upon  her  obsequiously.  Her 
father  fed  her  from  his  cup  and  plate  ;  her  mother  tempted 
her  with  mention  of  dainties  not  upon  the  tea-board.  Aunt 
Evy,  looking  somewhat  worn  by  the  agitations  of  the  after- 
noon, sat  ir>  her  sight  with  responsive  smile  and  love-word 
whenever  her  "  twin's  "  glance  fell  upon  her. 

Wynant  went  far  to  reinstate  himself  in  my  good  graces  by 


294  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

his  reception  of  the  news  that  his  niece  was  able  to  join  the 
family  circle,  and  his  unbounded  joy  at  seeing  her  again. 
His  inamorata,  who  was  not  yet  his  betrothed,  lived  in  the 
next  street,  and  was  presumably  at  home,  since  she  knew 
of  his  intention  to  dine  at  his  brother's  on  Thanksgiving 
Day.  Yet  he  lingered  with  us  until  nearly  nine  o'clock, 
and  it  really  appeared  doubtful  whether  he  would  have  gone 
then,  but  for  Aunt  Evy's  direct  advice  that  he  should  pay  his 
respects  an  1  offer  the  compliments  of  the  season  to  the 
expectant  fair  one. 

"  You  are  certain,  Ailsie,  woman,  that  you  haven't  the 
tiniest  bit  of  a  grudge  laid  up  against  me  in  some  back 
corner  of  your  blessed  little  heart  ?"  he  returned  to  the  par- 
lor to  say  after  putting  on  his  overcoat. 

Ailsie  showed  her  white  teeth  in  a  merry  smile. 

"  You  are  behind  the  times,  Uncle  Wy.  There  are  no 
back  corners  in  my  well-regulated  young  lady's  heart.  It's 
all  front  windows,  plate-glass,  and  gas-fixtures  inside,  so  that 
you  can  see  clear  through.  But  I  see  what  you  are  at. 
You're  trying  to  hint  me  into  saying  that  I  oughtn't  to  have 
brought  your  delicate  self  across  the  country  in  such  weather. 
It's  likely  somebody  else  will  think  so,  too.  Tell  her  it  was 
entirely  my  fcult.  That  you  begged  and  prayed  me  to  let 
you  stay  at  your  brother's  where  you  were  enjoying  yourself, 
but  I  forced  you  to  come,  whether  you  would  or  not. 
That's  a  nice  beginning  for  your  evening's  talk.  I  have 
heard  gentlemen  say  it  was  half  the  battle  to  get  the  con- 
versation handsomely  started." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  295 

"  I  wish — "  said  Wynant  threateningly,  when  the  laugh  at 
his  expense  had  subsided — "  that  I  had  upset  you  in  a 
dozen  snow-drifts  instead  of  one.  Let  me  but  get  you  in  a 
sleigh  once  more  ! " 

"  I'd  rather  be  where  I  am  ! "  remarked  Ailsie,  to  me, 
nestling  down  among  her  cushions,  with  a  sigh  of  exquisite 
comfortableness,  as  a  puff  of  cold  air  penetrated  to  the  warm 
parlor  from  the  front  door,  opened  by  the  departing  suitor. 
"  This  is  deliciously  snug  and  lovely.  It  is  almost  worth 
while  to  be  half-frozen,  now  and  then,  to  learn  how  to  enjoy 
home  and  big  fires,  and  people  taking  tea  sociably  about 
one's  lazy  self.  Take  it  altogether,  I  am  not  sorry  I  went 
to  grandpa's.  I  had  a  delightful  visit.  I  never  saw  the 
country  in  winter  before.  I  like  it.  The  gray  rocks 
and  brown  fields  ;  the  straight  solemn  trees,  with,  may  be, 
three  or  four  bunches  of  ragged  leaves  hanging  on  the 
branches,  and  the  blackish  hemlocks  and  rusty,  obstinate- 
looking  cedars  were  not  exactly  beautiful,  of  course.  But 
they  were  interesting.  Then  the  wind  at  night  was  grand ! 
You  might  have  thought  yourself  at  the  sea-shore  in  a  storm, 
as  you  lay  awake,  listening  to  it  in  the  grove  behind  the 
house.  But  the  most  curious  thing  was  to  hear  the  river 
groan  all  night  long.  You  needn't  laugh,  Mamma !  It 
really  did  !  It  was  tight-frozen,  and  you  could  hear  the  groan 
begin  away  up  as  far  as  the  bridge,  and  run  all  the  way 
down,  until,  I  suppose,  it  moaned  itself  out." 

"Whales?"  suggested  round-eyed  Robby,  squeezing  be- 
tween his  mother  and  aunt  to  get  near  the  story-teller. 


296  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Ailsie  smoothed  his  hair  affectionately,  laughing  at  what 
she  considered  a  bright  idea  of  her  small  brother's. 

"  No,  dear  !  But  it  sounded  very  alive !  I  was  quite 
vexed  when  grandpa  told  me  it  was  wind  under  the  ice  that 
made  it.  It  was  the  queerest  noise,  Aunt  Evy  !  It  made 
shivers  run  through  me.  I  wouldn't  think  about  the  air  bub- 
bling under  the  ice  and  trying  to  get  out,  after  I  went  to  bed. 
It  was  nice  and  horrible  to  imagine  that  it  was  the  poor 
water-spirits  moaning  in  their  prison  for  the  air  and  sunshine. 
It  reminded  me  of  Ariel  shut  up  in  the  tree.  When  his 
groans  made  the  wolves  howl,  you  know." 

"  In  the  name  of  reason,"  said  Mr.  Darling,  glancing  from 
one  to  another  with  a  frown  of  perplexity,  half  earnest,  half 
comic.  "Are  you  all  in  a  conspiracy  to  crack  this  child's 
brain  ?  What  business  has  she  to  know  anything  about 
Ariel,  or  even  that  such  a  man  as  Shakspeare  ever  lived  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  for  you  to  answer,"  returned  Miss 
Marr,  quietly.  "  She  made  acquaintance  with  him  in  your 
library.  Under  your  eye,  she  tells  me." 

"You  said  I  might  look  at  the  book,  papa,"  explained 
Ailsie.  "  The  heavy  Shakspeare  with  so  many  pictures  in  it." 

"  Which  pictures  were  the  attraction,  as  I  supposed,"  said 
Mr.  Darling,  sighing  like  one  beyond  his  depth.  "  That  a 
monkey  like  you  would  sit  curled  up  in  the  corner  of  a  sofa, 
poring,  half  the  evening,  over  anything  else  in  the  volume, 
never  entered  my  head.  And,  pray,  Miss  Darling,  what 
have  you  read  in  my  heavy  Shakspeare  besides  '  The  Tem- 
pest?'" 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  297 

"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  papa.  And  Romeo  and 
Juliet.  And  the  Comedy  of  Errors.  Hamlet  I  began,  but 
let  go  when  I  got  to  the  ghost.  I  can't  endure  scary  stories. 
Oh  !  and  Julius  Caesar." 

"  In  spite  of  dead  Caesar's  ghost ! "  interposed  her  father, 
"  Go  on  !  " 

"  That  is  about  all,  papa.  Except  that  1  dipped  into 
Richard  Third." 

"  And  waded  a  short  distance  into  Henry  Fifth,  with  a 
sprinkle  of  each  of  the  other  kings  ?  " 

"  Not  yet  ! "  with  a  sparkle  of  arch  defiance.  Then,  in 
serious  simplicity:  "You  don't  really  object,  papa?  I 
thought  all  wise  scholars  liked  to  read  Shakspeare." 

"  It  is  too  early  for  my  lady-bird  to  be  a  wise  scholar." 
The  father  put  back  the  hair  from  her  forehead,  smiling  half- 
mournftilly.  "  Mother  Goose  would  be  safer  reading  for  you 
yet  awhile." 

"  There  are  as  silly  things  in  Shakspeare  as  in  Mother 
Goose,"  affirmed  Ailsie,  stoutly.  "Just  hear  this  ! 

'  You  spotted  snakes  with  double  tongue, 

Thorny  hedge- hogs,  be  not  seen ; 
Newts  and  blind-worms,  do  no  wrong, 
Come  not  near  our  fairy  queen. 
Philomel  with  melody 
Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby, 
Lulla,  lulla,  lullaby;   lulla,  lulla,  lullaby.' 

There's  just  as  much  poetry  in — 

'  London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 

Dance  light,  my  lady  gay.1 
13* 


298  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

And  as  for  it's  being  a  fairies'  song  and  a  lullaby — it  was 
enough  to  keep  Titania  awake  all  night  to  hear  of  so  many 
crawly  creatures — when  she  was  going  to  sleep  on  the 
ground,  too  ! " 

Encouraged  by  the  unusually  active  part  his  sister  was 
taking  in  the  general  conversation,  Robby  put  in  his  oar  : 

"  Mother  Goose  is  splendid,  /  think.  All  but  Old  Mother 
Morey.  That  is  a  cheat." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Ailsie,  eagerly.  "  There's 
a  deal  to  be  got  out  of  her.  So  much  to  make  up  stories 
about.  There  used  to  be  a  picture  of  her  in  my  Mother 
Goose — the  first  one  I  ever  had.  An  old  lady  with  a  cap 
with  a  wide  border,  and  a  blue  apron  on,  sitting  in  an  arm- 
chair. Her  brother  was  in  another  chair  on  the  other  side 
of  the  house-door.  He  was  a  meek,  bald  little  man  with  a 
stick  in  his  hand,  and  round  shoulders.  It  always  seemed 
to  me  that  she  must  have  hen-pecked  him.  The  story  may 
have  been  about  that.  Or,  she  was  a  very  respectable  old 
lady,  and  he  wasn't.  You  could  make-believe  no  end  of 
things  about  them." 

"  That  is  a  novel  notion  to  me — that  anything  could  be 
made  out  of  Mother  Morey,"  said  Mrs.  Darling.  "  Like 
Robby,  I  have  always  regarded  her  as  a  cheat,  and  her 
brother  as  another  of  the  same  sort." 

Ailsie  colored  quickly  and  diffidently. 

"  It's  all  make-believe,  of  course,  mamma,"  she  said,  de- 
precatingly.  "  But  it  does  seem  as  if  there  are  lots  of  fun 
and  good  times  in  the  world  as  well  as  in  books,  if  people 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  299 

would  take  the  trouble  to  hunt  them  up.  Beautiful  and 
curious  things,  too  ! " 

"  Witch-hazel !  "  said  Aunt  Evy,  aside. 

Ailsie  caught  the  words,  but  not  the  meaning,  and  sub- 
sided into  studious  silence.  She  had  a  way  of  going  into 
retirement  with  a  new  idea,  as  a  squirrel  carries  off  a  nut  to 
his  hole  to  pick  out  the  meat  undisturbed. 

By-and-by,  taking  advantage  of  a  brisk  discussion  between 
her  father,  mother,  and  aunt,  relative  to  some  date  of  family 
history,  she  appealed  softly  to  me  : 

"Isn't  it  a  hazel-rod  they  carry  to  show  where  water  is 
under  the  ground  ?  " 

"  Yes.     And  hid  treasure.     That  is  the  superstition." 

"Then  I  don't  understand  what  Aunt  Evy  meant.  Do 
you  ?  " 

I  smiled.     "  I  think  I  do." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

I  stooped  to  say  it  in  her  ear  : 

"  In  eight  years  from  to-night,  Ailsie.  Do  not  forget  to 
ask  me,  then!" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


MY   ORIOLE. 

HREE-quarters  of  the  first  of  the  eight  years 
had  gone.     It  was  the  first  week  of  Septem- 
ber.    The  Darlings  had  been  at  Brightwood 
since  the  middle  of  June,  and  I  had  visited 
them  but  twice ;  once  on  the  glorious  Fourth,  and 
again  for  one  restful  Sabbath  in  August.     But  the 
wearisome  lane  had  turned  at  last.     I  was  to  have 
a  fortnight's  vacation   from   sick-beds   and  city 
streets,  every  day  of  which  I  designed  to  spend 
with  my  best  friends. 

This  time  they  knew  of  my  coming.  At  the  half-mile  bend 
that  led  the  highroad  in  the  opposite  direction  from  Bright- 
wood,  a  curricle  was  waiting  for  me  in  the  shade  of  an  oak, 
— a  low-hung,  cozy  conveyance,  with  a  sober  roadster  in  the 
shafts,  and  seated  within,  holding  the  reins,  with  neither 
driver  nor  groom  in  sight,  was  Ailsie. 

I  could  sketch  her  now,  as  she  appeared  to  me  at  the  sud- 
den whirl  of  the  stage  out  of  a  wooded  piece  of  road  into  the 
cleared  plain.  The  bloom  of  her  pink  lawn  dress  and  rib- 
bons of  the  same  hue  on  her  broad- brimmed  "flat,"  made  a 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  301 

pretty  dash  of  color  in  the  monotone  of  September  green. 
The  wavering  lights  piercing  the  tree-boughs  dappled  her 
skirts  and  hat.  And  the  face  under  the  straw  brim  was  the 
rarest  bit  of  moulding  and  tinting  my  eyes  had  rested  upon 
since  she  blessed  them  last.  She  waved  me  no  welcome. 
Her  countenance  did  not  change  from  its  grave  serenity. 
Touching  her  horse  lightly  with  the  whip,  she  drove  forward 
when  the  coach  moved  off — not  before — meeting  me  half- 
way between  the  oak  and  the  public  road.  The  coach  was 
full,  inside  and  out,  and  I  comprehended  that  she  would  not 
be  made  a  spectacle  of,  or  have  our  re-union  commented 
upon  by  coarse  or  indifferent  spectators.  The  color  rose  to 
her  cheek ;  the  lips  unbent  gladly  in  giving  me  her  hand 
over  the  side  of  the  curricle.  Her  eyes  said  a  world  of  sweet 
and  nameless  things  ;  were  lustrous  with  proud  satisfaction  ; 
completeness  of  joy  that  needed  not  the  endorsement  of  lip- 
language. 

"  You  were  good  to  come  for  me,  Cherie"  I  said  stepping 
into  my  place. 

"  I  would  not  have  let  anybody  else  come,"  she  rejoined, 
brightly.  "  1  learned  to  drive  on  purpose.  And  kept  it  for 
a  surprise  for  you.  Now,  you  should  say  that  you  are  sur- 
prised." 

"Never  more  in  my  life!"  I  affirmed.  "I  shall  expect 
to  see  you  an  Amazon  yet.  Your  Arab  steed  is  quite  safe 
—is  he?" 

"He  isn't  a  particle  steed-y !"  flicking  him  with  the  lash 
to  prove  his  imperturbability.  "  He  is  only  very  plain  Jack. 


3°2  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Born  and  bred  to  the  plough  except  when  he  went  to  church 
on  Sunday.  But  for  the  looks  of  the  thing  we  might  as  well 
drive  an  old  cow.  Safe  !  That's  no  word  for  his  stupidity. 
I  don't  believe  he  ever  threw  his  heels  up  and  his  head  down 
even  when  he  was  a  colt.  He  only  stood  on  the  sunny  side 
of  the  fence  with  a  straw  in  his  mouth,  all  day  long." 

He  went  as  fast  as  I  cared  to  have  him,  at  present.  The 
road  was  a  tolerably  smooth  track,  up-hill  most  of  the  way ; 
an  evergreen  wood  on  one  side,  chestnuts  and  oaks  on  the 
other.  Little  brooks — all  silver  and  foam — leaped  down  the 
bank  and  ran  laughing  across  the  road  to  throw  themselves 
down  the  steeper  headland  of  the  lake.  The  familiar  smell 
of  resinous  boughs ;  the  fresh  air  from  the  water  \  the  rest- 
less play  of  the  shadows  and  sunbeams  upon  green  hillsides  ; 
the  beautiful  glooms  of  bosky  gorges  leading  upward  from 
the  road  into  the  mountains, — brought  back  Aunt  Evy's  jest 
about  the  garden  of  Eden.  As  we  drove  along  I  began  to 
chant : 

"  O  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 

Who  doth  not  crave  for  rest  ? 
Who  would  not  seek  the  happy  land 
Where  they  that  love  are  blest  ? 
Where  loyal  hearts  and  true 
Stand  ever  in  the  light — " 

"  That  is  Heaven  ! "  said  Ailsie,  when  she  had  listened 
thus  far. 

"  Didn't  you  write  to  me  that  Brightwood  was  hearen  upon 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  303 

earth  ?  It  is  lovelier  than  ever,  Ailsie  !  I  have  dreamed  of 
it  every  night — and  day — for  a  week  past." 

"  You  are  going  to  give  us  your  whole  vacation — aren't 
you  ?  "  she  asked,  solicitously.  "  The  entire  fortnight  ?  " 

"  Every  day  of  it,  Cherie  I  If  you  will  let  me  stay.  I  am 
very  sure  at  this  minute,  that  I  shall  never  go  away.  It  will 
always  be  September  and  afternoon,  and  you  and  I  are  to 
drive  slowly  on  under  the  sweet-smelling  trees,  talking  of 
what  pleases  us  and  doesn't  concern  other  people.  That  is 
my  idea  of  a  vacation." 

"You  wouldn't  object  to  Jack's  going  a  little  faster?" 

"  Jack  is  perfect — in  his  way,  my  dear !  I  am  in  the 
humor  for  saying — '  Blessed  be  idleness  !  Long  live  sloth  ! ' 
Don't  go  in  ! "  seeing  that  our  lively  "  steed  "  slackened  his 
already  moderate  speed  in  nearing  the  Brightwood  gate. 
"  The  sun  is  more  than  an  hour  high.  Are  you  too  tired  to 
make  the  turn  of  the  lake  ?  " 

"  No —  "  hesitating.  "  Not  at  all  tired.  I  should  like  it 
dearly.  Ah  !  there  is  Robby  !  "  beckoning  joyfully.  "  Robby, 
dear  !  will  you  run  to  the  house  and  tell  mamma  that  I  have 
gone  to  ride  with  Mr.  Barry  and  that  we  shall  be  home  in 
good  time  for  tea  ?  You  see — "  she  added,  when  we  had 
driven  off — "  I  was  afraid  she  might  be  uneasy  at  my  staying 
out  so  long,  if  she  supposed  I  had  only  gone  to  the  corner 
to  meet  the  stage." 

"  Thoughtful  little  woman  !  "  I  said,  in  genuine  admiration. 

The  sudden  blush  Aunt  Evy  had  described  as  "  one  of  her 
tricks,"  warmed  her  face. 


304  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

i 
"  You  would  not  say  that  if  you  knew !     That  is  Aunt 

Evy*s  way,  not  mine — thinking  of  other  people  first.  I  feel 
dreadfully  about  it,  sometimes,  when  I  forget.  When,  for 
instance,  I  sit  still  with  my  book  in  a  rocking-chair  and  let 
mamma  take  one  that  isn't  so  pleasant.  Or,  let  her  wait  on 
herself  when  she  wants  something  out  of  another  room,  or 
maybe  up-stairs.  Aunt  Evy  says  I'll  get  over  it  when  I  am 
older.  That  young  people  are  more  thoughtless  than  selfish. 
That  she  has  nothing  to  do  but  lie  still  and  think  how  she 
can  help  others.  I  wish  one  could  be  good  without  having 
to  suffer  beforehand.  Aunt  Evy  says  Pain  is  GOD'S  most 
skilful  teacher.  I  was  born  a  coward.  I'm  terribly  afraid 
of  pain ! " 

"  So  are  all  who  have  sound,  healthy  bodies.  The  very 
fulness  of  life  makes  the  idea  of  suffering  '  terrible.'  Don't 
distress  yourself  with  the  notion  that  it  is  cowardly.  It 
would  be  unnatural  if  you  liked  to  think  of  the  possibility 
that  the  discipline  of  sorrow  and  sickness  may  be  yours 
some  day." 

We  drove  so  slowly  that  Jack  must  have  enjoyed  the  jaunt 
almost  as  much  as  ourselves.  But  we  talked  very  fast,  each 
having  much  to  tell.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  now,  remem- 
bering her  age,  that  she  hearkened  with  intelligent  sympathy 
to  details  of  professional  struggles,  ordeals  and  successes  ; 
that  she  was  the  solitary  confidante  of  the  fact  that  I  was  the 
author  of  certain  articles  upon  sanitary  precautions  in  archi- 
tecture, street-building,  and  in  the  daily  life  of  the  house- 
hold, that  were  exciting  some  talk  in  the  metropolis,  or  that 


MY  LH'TLE  LOVE.  305 

I  had  brought  them,  with  the  editorial  remarks  thereupon, 
for  her  private  reading. 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  them  all  in  your  valise  ?  "  she 
queried,  earnestly.  "  And  you  are  really  willing  to  trust  them 
with  me  ?  I  will  be  very  careful  not  to  tear  the  least  slip. 

"  It  makes  me  feel  very  happy,"  she  resumed,  blushing 
again,  "  to  know  that  you  are  getting  to  be  a  distinguished 
man.  And  that  you  care  for  silly  me  as  much  as  ever.  But 
it  is  a  great  puzzle  that  you  do." 

"  You  don't  know  what  nonsense  you  are  talking,  dear. 
I  am  not  '  distinguished.'  The  probability  is  that  I  never 
shall  be.  And  nothing — nothing,  Ailsie,  in  life  or  in  death, 
can  ever  change  my  love  for  you.  Promise  that  you  will 
never  doubt  this  !  " 

My  vehemence  neither  agitated  nor  surprised  her. 

"  I  always  believe  what  you  say,"  she  replied,  quietly.  "  I 
could  not  endure  to  think  that  you  could  stop  loving  me. 
But  it  is  very  good  in  you,  all  the  same." 

I  had  talked  to  her  in  our  drive  as  to  a  woman.  It  was 
the  child  who  knocked  at  my  door  next  morning  to  call  out 
that  she  was  "going  to  feed  the  chickens  in  ten  minutes,  and 
I  must  hurry  down,  if  I  wanted  to  see  them  in  their  morning 
glory." 

A  frolicsome  child,  in  the  wild  spirits  that  never  bless  full- 
grown  human  beings  before  breakfast,  she  danced  along  the 
path  leading  to  the  barn  and  poultry-yard,  swinging  her 
basket  of  shelled  corn  around  her  head  so  dexterously  as  not 
to  spill  a  grain,  brimful  of  mimicry  and  badinage. 


306  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

11  Honor  bright,  now,  doctor — "  she  reserved  the  title  for 
her  teazing  moods.  At  other  seasons  I  was  still  her  "  Mr. 
Barry" — "  Honor  bright,  now  !  Did  you  ever  come  so  near 
seeing  the  sun  rise  before  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  remember.  But  I  have  seen  it  set  a  thousand 
times  and  more." 

"  And  you  are  so  ignorant  of  '  Nature's  grand  phenom- 
enay '  as  to  imagine  that  you  have  only  to  read  a  sunset 
backward,  and  you  have  a  sunrise  ?  That's  like 

'  a  citizen 
Of  credit  and  renown,' 

who   fancies  there's  nothing  out  of  town  worth  seeing  or 
hearing  about.     Why,  the  dewdrops  and  the  cobwebs  are  a 
sight  in  themselves,  if  you  are  up  in  the  morning  early." 
She  sang  as  she  waltzed  : 

"  Now  summer  dews  are  on  the  grass, 

Hanging  pure  and  pearly, 
And  morning  moments  quickly  pass, 
Up  in  the  morning  early  ! " 

An  indescribable  clamor  drowned  her  voice.  From  grove, 
barn-yard,  and  lawn  scampered  and  flew  toward  us  a  feath- 
ered throng, — turkeys,  ducks,  Guinea-fowls,  chickens,  in  all 
stages  of  development,  wide-mouthed  in  welcome  or  greed, 
and  within  the  pale  of  the  poultry-yard  proper  arose  a  corre- 
sponding din. 

Ailsie  laughed  heartily  when  I  put  both  hands  to  my  ears. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  307 

"  Don't  you  like  it  ?  "  having  quieted  her  courtiers  meas- 
urably by  bountiful  handfuls  from  her  basket.  "  It  is  better 
than  a  brass  band  when  your  ear  is  educated  to  it." 

"  Those  wretches  certainly  have  brazen  throats  !  "  replied 
I,  pointing  to  some  Guinea-fowls  whose  metallic  "  pot-rack  ! 
pot-rack  ! "  threatened  to  split  my  tympanum. 

"  I  am  not  over-fond  of  them,  myself — "  tossing  extra  rations 
in  their  direction  to  purchase  a  moment's  peace.  "  Aunt 
Evy  says  they  are  the  '  speckled  Arabs  of  the  poultry-yard.' 
But  they  are  not  like  Arabs  in  one  thing ;  they  don't  care  a 
mite  more  for  you  when  they've  eaten  your  bread  and  salt — 
or  corn  and  oats,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing — all  sum- 
mer long,  than  if  you  were  their  worst  enemy.  They  would 
run  for  their  lives  if  I  were  to  go  a  step  nearer  to  them. 
While  my  chickens,  turkeys,  and  ducks  trust  me.  Just  see  ! " 

She  stooped  in  the  midst  of  the  noisy  crowd,  and  held  out 
her  hand  full  of  corn.  In  a  second  it  was  empty,  and  a 
dozen  were  scrambling  to  peck  at  her  fingers,  two  or  three 
young  chickens  jumped  on  her  lap,  and  one  saucy  cockerel 
to  her  shoulder.  She  turned  her  face  from  them  to  laugh  up 
into  mine — the  embodiment  of  health  and  innocent  delight. 

In  wholesomeness  and  vigor  she  resembled  the  typical 
English  child,  rather  than  the  more  meagre  American  nurs- 
ling one  encounters  in  country  strolls  as  often  as  in  city 
promenades.  "  Hale,"  was  the  word  that  offered  itself  to 
me  as  most  happily  descriptive  of  her  at  that  instant.  Her 
clear  brown  skin  was  rosy  with  the  regular  pulse  of  fresh 
blood  untainted  in  fount  or  flow.  Lung,  muscle,  and  brain, 


308  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

she  was  faultlessly  sound.  The  mind,  which  was  her  richest 
dower,  did  not  owe  its  rapid  expansion  to  unhealthy  heats. 

Stepping  aside  to  wait  for  her,  I  uncovered  my  head  to  the 
sweet  morning  air.  I  was  thanking  Him  who  had  made  her, 
that  she  lived,  and  praying,  as  I  had  never  asked  for  other 
blessings,  that  the  fond  sense  of  ownership  with  which  I 
regarded  her,  might  not  prove  the  vainest,  as  it  had  been  the 
fairest  of  illusions. 

By  the  time  the  rest  were  ready  for  breakfast,  we  had  been 
to  the  upper  pasture  to  look  at  the  "  fairy  lace  "  draping 
every  weed  and  bearded  blade  of  grass,  and  binding  the 
gaunt  mullein-stalks  in  telegraphic  communication  ;  had  fed 
the  rabbits,  and  decided  upon  the  comparative  beauty  of 
white,  tawny,  and  dappled ;  had  admired  the  pretty  audacity 
of  the  half-domesticated  squirrels  that  chattered  at  us  from 
boughs  I  could  almost  have  touched  with  my  hand, — and  had 
a  row  upon  the  lake  in  the  "  Midget," — a  dainty  shell  of  a 
boat,  so  named  by  her  father,  out  of  compliment  to  his  best- 
loved  child.  She  was  very  proud  of  the  craft,  and  of  her 
skill  in  rowing,  taking  me  up  to  "  Lily  Island "  above  the 
bridge  and  back,  in  time  that  proved  her  to  be  a  capital 
oarswoman.  I  was  permitted  to  steer,  but  not  to  touch  an 
oar,  and,  reassured  that  she  was  not  in  danger  of  over-exerting 
herself  by  seeing  the  ease  with  which  she  handled  her  name- 
sake, I  gave  myself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  watching  the  sup- 
ple, rounded  wrists  that  pulled  so  even  and  strong  a  stroke, 
and  the  witching  face,  more  radiant  than  the  early  sunlight 

"  Lilies  and  roses  !  "  said  Mr.  Darling,  glancing  from  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  309 

central  ornament  of  the  breakfast-table — a  bowl  of  exquisite 
lilies,  which  were  the  spoils  of  our  voyage — to  his  daughter's 
cheeks.  "  The  trophies  of  your  triumph  over  '  dull  sloth 
and  a  drowsy  bed  ! '  At  your  age,  young  people,  I  thought 
them  worth  rising  for.  Now — 

*  I  love  an  early  doze,  mother, 
I  love  an  early  doze. '  " 

"  At  your  age ! "  It  might  have  been  a  slip  of  the  tongue, 
or  a  good-natured  endeavor  to  say  something  agreeable  to 
me.  Most  likely  it  was  a  careless  form  of  words  that  meant 
less  than  nothing.  But  the  phrase  sent  a  tingle  through  me. 
The  fifteen  years'  seniority,  that  I  was  apt  to  think  of  with 
apprehension,  sometimes  with  dismay,  as  a  possible  or  prob- 
able gulf  that  might  appear  to  Ailsie  or  her  natural  guardians 
just  cause  for  separating  us  eventually,  was  evidently  a  mat- 
ter of  no  consequence  in  her  father's  estimation.  If  any- 
thing were  needed  to  make  the  sunshine  clearer,  the  air  more 
invigorating,  and  the  prospect  of  a  whole  fortnight  in  my 
present  Paradise  more  transporting,  the  random  remark  sup- 
plied it.  To  heighten  the  pleasing  effect  of  the  speech,  no- 
body smiled,  or  seemed  aware  of  anything  incongruous  in  the 
conjunction  of  "us  young  people."  My  footing  as  Ailsie's 
peculiar  property  was  assumed  and  granted,  without  criticism, 
— much  less,  demur. 

She  settled  the  matter  by  informing  me,  after  breakfast, 
that  her  daily  tasks  of  reading  and  needlework  were  to  be 
intermitted  during  my  stay  at  Brightwood. 


3io  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  My  practising  I  must  keep  up,  of  course,"  she  observed. 
"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I'll  get  that  off  my  mind,  forthwith." 

"  Run  away,  then,  Mrs.  Bagnet,  and  attend  to  the  greens," 
said  her  aunt.  "The  doctor  must  content  himself  with  the 
society  of  a  grandmother  and  a  grand-aunt.  You  know  that 
I  have  a  namesake  in  Cincinnati — don't  you  ?  " 

"  Ailsie  wrote  that  she  was  promoted  to  the  dignity  of 
auntship,"  returned  I,  blowing  a  blue  ring  from  the  end  of 
the  cigar  Ailsie  had  lighted  before  going  to  the  piano. 

The  ladies  were  seated  in  Boston  rockers,  broad  and  low, 
on  the  piazza,  fronting  the  lake  ;  I,  upon  the  steps.  It  was  a 
divine  morning,  and  the  sun  which  had  kissed  the  dew  off 
the  lawn  would  not  reach  our  shade  until  near  noon.  The 
honeysuckles  on  the  pillars  and  underrunning  the  eaves  of 
the  porch  were  in  their  second  blossoming.  A  brood  of 
pigeons  with  eyes  like  carbuncles,  hoods  and  breasts  of 
chameleon  silk,  strutted  and  cooed  on  the  gravel  walk. 
Remembering  the  scorching  sidewalks  with  their  thinned 
stream  of  passengers,  and  the  teeming  hospital  with  its 
sickening  sights  and  sounds,  I  luxuriated  in  my  lazy  content. 
Fourteen  days  seemed  a  lifetime  of  bliss  when  one  took 
into  account  that  this  was  early  in  the  forenoon  of  the  first. 

"  She  is  an  inveterate  newsmonger,"  said  Mrs.  Darling, 
"  if  we  may  judge  from  your  reception  of  our  morsels  of 
family  and  neighborhood  gossip.  '  So  Ailsie  wrote '  or 
'Ailsie  mentioned  that,'  are  stereotyped  replies — patented 
wet  blankets." 

"  She  is  a  pearl  of  a  correspondent,"  I  answered  ;  "  deal- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  311 

ing,  as  yet,  more  with  fact  than  with  sentiment.  And  having 
announced  her  fact,  she  lets  it  alone — drops  it  entirely, 
dusts  her  fingers  delicately  and  proceeds  to  the  next  item. 
She  wastes  neither  time  nor  words." 

There  was  pleasure  in  the  consciousness  that  I  had  more 
intimate  knowledge  than  the  loving  mother  and  aunt,  of  her 
habits  of  thought  and  expression. 

"  And  then  it  is  '  off  her  mind  ! '  "  smiled  Miss  Marr. 
"  You  will  observe  how  systematic  she  has  grown  ;  how  con- 
scientious as  to  the  season,  no  less  than  the  manner  in  which 
duty  is  discharged.  Recreation  does  not  deserve  the  name 
in  her  regard,  while  the  shadow  of  an  unperformed  task 
rests  upon  her.  She  has  heard  of  Mrs.  Bagnet's  greens 
until  she  must  be  sick  of  their  odor." 

The  conversation  strayed  with  that,  and  my  attention  also. 
From  the  neighboring  parlor  came  the  sound  of  a  simple 
theme  so  well  played  that  I  could  not  help  listening,  knowing 
who  the  performer  was.  The  fingering  was  not  difficult,  or 
the  score  abstruse.  Hands  less  deft  than  the  slender,  sun- 
burned ones  now  on  the  keys  could  have  managed  these. 
But  the  child  had  seized  upon  the  soul  of  the  composition 
and  interpreted  it  audibly.  By  shifting  my  position  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  steps  I  obtained  a  view  of  the  unconscious 
performer.  Light  from  the  long  casement  flowed  over  her 
and  the  music-sheets  set  up  for  her  study.  She  had  a  par- 
tiality for  all  shades  of  gold-color,  from  orange  to  palest 
amber,  and  all  became  her.  Especially  did  she  affect  in  this 
summer  weather,  a  morning  costume  of  buff  muslin  or 


3 1 2  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

French  chintz,  and  a  coquettish  black  silk  apron  with  pockets 
and,  what  were  known  then  as  bretdles,  passing  over  the 
shoulders.  A  white  ruffle  finished  the  dress  at  the  throat ; 
a  buff  ribbon  tied  back  her  hair. 

"  Barry ! "  called  Aunt  Evy,  in  pretended  petulance. 
"  Do  you  know  that  Mrs.  Darling  has  spoken  to  you  twice 
without  receiving  a  symptom  of  a  reply?  Are  your  wits 
drowsing  or  sky -larking  ?  " 

"  I  am  studying  the  natural  habits  and  appearance  of  the 
oriole,"  returned  I,  apologetically.  "  If  Mrs.  Darling  will 
step  this  way  she  will  pardon  me." 

She  smiled  forgiveness  without  change  of  place. 

"  Her  father  calls  her  his  canary  bird  when  she  wears  that 
dress,  but  I  like  your  simile  better." 

"  A  canary  is  too  tame, — too  much  the  creature  of  train- 
ing and  circumstance,"  I  said.  "  His  song  is  always  the 
same,  too.  There  is  so  little  variety  in  the  shrill  warble  that 
one  soon  tires  of  it.  The  oriole — wild,  bright,  graceful,-r— 
singing  for  very  gladness  the  song  nature  and  love  have 
taught — that  is  more  like  Ailsie  !  " 

There  was  nothing  peculiar  in  my  accent  or  manner — at 
least,  so  I  thought — but  Miss  Marr  turned  to  me  with  a 
strange,  startled  expression,  as  of  one  rudely  shaken  from 
slumber; — unclosed  her  lips  to  question  or  exclaim, — but 
remained  silent. 

So  silently  abstracted  that  her  sister  seemed  to  weary  of  our 
society  after  a  while,  and  left  us  to  dream  out  our  respective 
visions  or  to  compare  confidences  as  we  might  choose. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  313 

I  felt  what  was  coming,  and  contemplated  the  prospect 
with  the  serenity  of  a  mind  long  since  made  up, — committed 
to  one  line  of  action, — "  'Though  father  and  mither  and  a' 
should  go  mad." 

In  the  audacity  of  seasoned  resolve  and  the  impertinence 
of  present  happiness,  I  quoted  the  line  aloud  before  Miss 
Marr  had  her  catechism  in  train  : 

"  '  Though  father  and  mither  and  a'  should  go  mad  ! ' 

That's  the  plain  Scotch  of  it,  Aunt  Evy — more  stubborn  than 
English  !  The  oriole  will  sing  in  my  bower,  in  the  fulness 
of  time.  So  the  fates  have  decreed." 

"So  says  a  boy's  wilful  fancy!"  was  the  rejoinder. 
"  Some  things  are  too  absurd  for  serious  argument  or 
opposition,  Barry.  There  will  be  time  for  a  dozen  heart- 
aftairs  on  your  part,  before  she  begins  to  think  of  being  a 
woman.  And  she  will  have  her  say  before  the  matter  can  be 
decided  so  definitely  as  you  imagine.  A  'say'  that  may  not 
be  what  you  expect." 

"  All  the  same,  she  will  be  mine  ! "  I  said,  imperturbably. 
"  Will  come  to  and  with  me,  of  her  own  will.  It  is  written 
in  our  stars,  hers  and  mine." 

The  sweet  pale  face  was  troubled.  Rising  from  her  chair, 
Aunt  Evy  crossed  over  to  me  and  sat  down  upon  the  step, 
laid  her  hand  upon  my  knee. 

"  Don't  jest  about  this  !     It  seems  foolish  to  discuss  the 
subject  seriously,  but  I  cannot  endure  the  suspicion  of  ridi- 
cule where  she  and  her  happiness  are  concerned." 
14 


314  MY  LITTLE  L 0 VE. 

"  Jest !  "  more  nearly  angry  with  her  than  I  would  have 
believed  possible,  a  moment  before.  "  How  do  you  expect 
me  to  endure  the  imputation  of  trifling  with  that  which  is 
more  sacred  in  my  thoughts  and  hopes  than  aught  else  upon 
earth  ?  I  thought  you  knew  me  better  than  that !  " 

"  I  know  what  you  are  now.  I  believe,  too,  that  yours  is 
a  nature  that  will  not  lightly  change.  But  she  is  our  baby, 
Barry  !  Have  you  counted  over  the  years  that  must  pass 
before  you  can  so  much  as  tell  her  what  she  is  to  you — 
always  provided  that  your  own  feelings,  and  views,  do  not 
alter?" 

"  I  am  to  wait  seven  years  and  a  quarter,  before  I  say  a 
word,"  I  answered,  cheerfully.  "  Jacob  served  almost  twice 
that  time,  for  a  woman  who  was  not  one  hundredth  part  as 
worthy  of  life-long  devotion,  and  they  '  seemed  but  a  few  days 
unto  him  for  the  love  that  he  bore  her.'  It  has  been  re- 
vealed to  me  that  this  great  glory  is  to  crown  my  existence. 
Call  me  irrational,  and  puerile,  if  you  like.  I  own  that  some 
things  cannot  be  assailed  by  argument,  or  upset.  But  do  not 
make  me  miserable  now,  by  intimations  that  you  will  not 
entrust  your  bright  bird  to  my  keeping  when  her  wings  are 
plumed  for  flight  from  the  parent  nest.  I  will  guard  her 
faithfully,  cherish  her  tenderly." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  She  is  as  sensitive  as  bright,  Barry !  I  tremble  when  I 
picture  her  as  exposed  to  the  chill  airs  and  unfriendly  buffets 
of  a  world  that  bears  most  hardly  upon  the  finest  spirits. 
Her  home  has  been  a  warm  and  sheltered  retreat." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  315 

"  Give  her  to  me  ! "  I  entreated.  "  To  me  who  have 
known  and  studied  her  so  long.  My  breast  shall  be  her 
shield  from  rude  winds,  and  ruder  blows.  You  cannot  doubt 
my  earnestness,  or  my  constancy  !  This  is  not  a  whim  but 
something  that  has  rooted  itself  in  the  very  core  of  my  being. 
I  am  not  a  boy,  Aunt  Evy  !  Nor  has  mine  been  a  boy's 
career  for  four  years  past.  I  understand  to  what  I  am 
pledging  myself — what  possible  prejudices  and  more  plau- 
sible reasonings  I  arn  engaging  to  overcome.  For  overcome 
them  I  shall  in  the  end.  I  shall  prove  that  I  have  kept  my- 
self young  for  Ailsie's  sake,  and  pure  that  I  might  never 
have  to  hang  my  head  in  shame  at  thought  of  the  crystal 
purity  of  her  soul.  I  told  you,  years  ago,  that  she  was  my 
evangel.  You  cannot  know,  because  I  cannot  put  into  words, 
all  that  she  has  been  to  me  since  of  example  and  stimulus, 
of  warning  from  the  evil,  and  winning  toward  the  good.  You 
have  called  her  your  baby,  but  the  woman  looks  out  of  those 
marvellous  eyes.  Let  her  love  me,  still,  without  bashful 

tremor  until  I  dare  teach  her  what  love  is,  and  what  love 

• 

I  have  felt  for  her.     Trust  to  rny  honor  not  to  forestall  the 
declaration  by  a  day." 

I  pleaded  as  for  life  and  all  its  goods.  A  horrible  dread 
had  overtaken  me.  What  if  this  woman,  whose  will  was  law 
in  everything  pertaining  to  the  management  of  her  "  twin," 
should  deem  the  continuance  of  my  intimacy  with  her 
charge  inadvisable,  now  that  she  had  listened  to  my  confes- 
sion ?  if,  with  her  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  the  world, 
she  should  adjudge  it  wise  and  kind  to  separate  us  for  per- 


3 1 6  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

haps  a  term  of  years,  lest  Ailsie  should  be  unduly  influenced 
to  favor  my  suit  by  reason  of  her  youth,  and  in  the  belief 
that  I  would  put  away  what  Miss  Marr  considered  a  pre- 
posterous fancy,  as  I  gained  in  experience  and  age  ? 

Separation  from  Ailsie  !  I  felt  the  blood  drain  back  to 
my  heart  and  stagnate  there  at  the  thought ;  wished  heartily 
that  I  had  never  been  betrayed  by  the  heedlessness  of  hap- 
piness into  the  indiscretion  of  speaking  openly  of  that  which 
I  had  guarded  so  jealously  and  long.  Why  could  not  I  have 
remained  content  with  the  idyl  that  stood  with  me  for  all  I 
knew  of  poetry,  beauty,  romance,  home,  love — I  had  almost 
said,  heaven — without  perilling  it  by  weak  cravings  for  sym- 
pathy and  confirmation  of  my  hopes  ?  Since  my  love-story 
was  unlike  any  other  ever  told  or  written,  why  must  I  tam- 
per with  its  delicate  loveliness  by  attempting  to  narrate  it, 
even  to  one  so  tender  of  heart  and  subtle  of  comprehension 
as  was  she  who  sat  beside  me,  the  troubled  look  deepening, 
instead  of  passing  from  her  eyes  ?  Was  it  possible  for  any 
third  person  to  enter  into  the  feeling  I  had  for  my  little  love  ? 
Rarefied  flame  ;  flower-scent ;  the  drop  of  light  that  throbs, 
but  never  flickers  in  the  diamond's  heart ;  the  hearing  and 
the  thought  of  sweet  music — were  similitudes  that  presented 
themselves  to  be  rejected  as  like,  but  not  exact,  as  I  sought 
to  define  it  to  myself.  Like  a  father's  fondness  in  watchful 
protection  of  her  feebleness  ;  like  a  mother's  love  in  fostering 
care  of  growing  mind  and  body  ;  and  intertwined  with  and 
intensifying  these,  the  lover's  pride  and  rapturous  anticipa- 
tions of  the  blossom-time  of  this  exquisite  bud. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  317 

"  I  cannot  sum  it  up  to  my  dwn  satisfaction  ! "  I  broke 
out,  impatiently.  "How  can  I  expect  you  to  understand 
how  much  this  is  to  me — how  utterly  wrecked  I  shall  be  if 
you  take  it  from  me,  even  for  awhile  ?  " 

"  As  if  I  could  !  "  smiling,  but  not  yet  brightly.  "  As  if  I 
would  if  I  could !  But  I  was  unprepared,  Barry,  and  you 
have  frightened  me  somewhat.  Your  vehemence  could  not 
but  seem  incongruous — " 

She  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the  figure  sitting  in  the 
flood  of  sunlight  in  the  room  beyond,  unconscious  of  our  obser- 
vation, intent  upon  getting  the  hour's  practice  "  off  her  mind." 

"  If  she  were  an  ordinary  child,  or  if  our  intercourse  had 
been  less  close  and  dear  to  both,  you  might  use  that  word. 
I  have  known  and  studied  her  through  and  through.  I  have 
never  loved  another  creature  with  one  thousandth  part  of  the 
devotion  I  have  lavished  upon  her.  And  since  last  Thanks- 
giving Day  I  have  understood  and  meant  all  I  have  said  and 
more,"  I  went  on,  taking  courage  from  my  companion's  evi- 
dent wavering.  "  Be  merciful,  Aunt  Evy  !  And  reasonable. 
You  have  not  forgotten  your  own  young  days.  Put  yourself 
in  my  place — " 

"  Don't  say  that!  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  put  it  in  that 
way  ! " 

Her  dress  was  no  whiter  than  her  face.  Her  breath  came 
hard ;  her  hands  fluttered  as  if  grasping  in  the  air  for  invisi- 
ble support. 

"  You  don't  know — you  have  never  heard — I  am  not 
superstitious — but  don't  ask  me  to  imagine — " 


318  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

I  had  seen  men — and  'women — struggle  for  composure. 
I  had  never  witnessed  a  battle  for  it  until  this  frail  creature 
fought  for  the  semblance  of  self-command  before  me.  The 
veins  in  her  temples  stood  out  like  dark  cords ;  every  muscle 
of  face  and  hands  was  tense ;  the  lips  were  crushed  into  a 
straight  line  of  pain. 

"  Forgive  me,  and  say  no  more ! "  I  began,  and  was 
silenced  by  a  gesture. 

Ailsie  had  returned  to  the  pensive  "Thought"  with  which 
she  had  begun  her  practising — very  weird  and  mournful  in 
the  silence  that  lay  between  us  two,  without.  She  had 
played  it  quite  through  when  Miss  Marr  spoke  again  : 

"  I  have  not  mentioned  his  name  in  fifteen  years — since 
his  mother  died — except  to  Ailsie.  She  has  seen  his  like- 
ness, and  we  talk  of  him  in  the  Sabbath  twilights.  She 
would  not  speak  of  him,  even  to  you,  for  she  understands. 
As  no  other  child  would.  You  are  right  there.  He  died  to 
save  my  life.  I  was  riding  alone  in  the  country  and  the 
horse  ran  away,  directly  down  the  mountain.  Barry  was  out 
gunning —  (You  never  guessed  why  I  liked  your  name  so 
well  ?  It  was  his,  and  until  I  met  you,  I  had  never  known 
another  who  bore  it.)  He  chanced  to  be  crossing  the  road, 
and  saw  me  coming.  There  was  a  precipice  just  beyond  the 
turn  at  which  he  took  his  stand.  He  caught  the  bridle  and 
struggled  with  the  horse,  calling  to  me  to  throw  myself  off, 
and  clear  of  the  saddle.  I  obeyed.  As  I  touched  the 
ground,  the  horse  leaped  forward.  They  went  over  the  cliff 
together.  His  arm  was  wound  in  the  bridle  to  gain  a  firmer 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  319 

hold.  That  he  might  the  more  surely  save  me  !  He  lived  a 
day  and  a  night.  He  said — in  the  intervals  of  such  suffering 
as  drove  me  wild  to  see — that  he  was  thankful  he  was  near 
at  hand — that  his  had  been  the  privilege  of  rescuing  me.  / 
have  never  been  thankful  for  it.  But  I  thought  I  was  bear- 
ing it  better  as  time  is  bringing  nearer  the  day  of  our  reunion.. 
You  took  me  by  surprise  by  speaking  as  you  did.  You  need 
not  fear  lest  I  shall  be  skeptical  as  to  the  strength  and  dura- 
tion of  the  one  love  of  a  lifetime. 

"  Our  Father  who  knows  our  frame  and  remembers  that 
we  are  dust — the  only  Friend  who  is  both  all-wise,  and  all- 
pitiful — bless  you,  and  in  His  own  good  time  (nbt  yours, 
Barry !  remember  that !)  give  you  the  love  of  my  precious 
child  !  The  thought  of ,  seeing  her  a  woman  grown — the 
fancy  that  I  might  in  some  way  guard  her  happiness,  has 
gone  further  than  anything  else  to  reconcile  me  to  the  pro- 
longed separation  from  my  Barry.  Should  I  not  live  to  do 
this,  there  will  be  comfort  in  the  remembrance  of  what  you 
have  said,  to-day  ;  that  the  dear  work  will  be  left  for  you  to 
complete." 

She  arose,  waved  me  back  when  I  would  have  offered  my 
arm,  and  walked  feebly  into  the  house. 

The  warmed  honeysuckle -bells  yielded  spicier  incense  to 
the  pleasant  wandering  airs.  The  pigeons  cooed  and  pouted 
in  their  sunny  promenade.  Ailsie  played  on  persever- 
ingly,  her  hour  not  being  up. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN   THE   WOODS. 

HE  last   day  but   one   of  my  vacation   was 
devoted  to  a  repeatedly  postponed  expedi- 
dition,  in    quest  of  woodcock,   which  were 
reported  to  be  plentiful  and  not  over-shy  in 
the  marshy   preserves   on  the  other  side  of   the 
mountain-ridge.     There   were   moist   glens   over 
there  and  brush-fringed  quagmires,  known  famil- 
iarly to  Wynant,  who  was  an  enthusiastic  sports- 
man and  never  averse  to  the  display  of  a  "  capital 
shot "  to  an  appreciative  looker-on. 

Between  his  determination  that  I  should  accompany  him 
in  an  all-day  tramp,  and  my  own  lurking  liking  for  a  good 
gun  and  dog,  with  a  tolerable  chance  of  filling  my  game-bag, 
the  matter  was  settled  and  the  programme  carried  out  even 
to  the  early  breakfast  and  the  trudge  through  the  fields 
before  the  "  fairy  lace "  lost  a  row  of  the  seed-pearls  be- 
gemming it. 

Ailsie  went  with  us  to  the  fence  dividing  the  road  from 
the  tipper  meadow  :  mounted  a  rock,  and  stood  watching 
us  while  we  crossed  the  open  ground  to  the  forest.  At  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  321 

thither  fence  we  looked  back.  The  buff-and -black  uniform 
was  plainly  discernible  at  this  distance,  and  the  wave  of  her 
hand  responsive  to  the  toss  of  our  hats.  Then  we  plunged 
into  wilderness  and  solitude  save  for  the  companionship  of 
each  other,  and  the  excellent  retriever  we  had  brought 
along.  The  exception  of  the  latter  is  simple  justice. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  handsomer  ?  "  asked  Wynant, 
as  the  fine  fellow  "  pointed  "  a  covey  of  quails  before  we  had 
gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  into  the  woods.  "  He  can  do  any- 
thing but  speak  in  human  language ;  knows  more  than  most 
Christian  bipeds  ever  learn." 

"  He  doesn't  understand  that  the  law  isn't  up  for  quail- 
shooting  until  November,"  said  I.  "  More's  the  pity  for  us 
that  it  isn't !  It  is  hard  on  a  gunner  who  gets  out  but  once  a 
year  not  to  be  allowed  a  crack  at  such  a  flight  of  brown- 
coats  as  that." 

I  raised  my  gun  in  silent  aim  at  the  tempting  flock 
whirring  away,  ahead  of  us. 

"  Frank  is  as  wise  as  the  quails,  at  any  rate,"  re- 
joined his  master.  "  They  ought  to  know  they  are  in  uo 
danger." 

The  report  of  two  shots  fired  in  quick  succession  in  the 
direction  taken  by  the  birds  gave  the  lie  to  his  words. 
With  the  sportsman's  instincts  in  hot  revolt,  he  pushed 
through  the  bushes,  in  quest  of  the  violator  of  the  law  we 
had  respected  at  such  cost  of  our  inclination,  whistling,  as  he 
went,  to  recall  Frank,  who  had  dashed  off  to  look  up  the 
fallen  game,  at  sound  of  the  gun.  The  offender  stood  on 
14* 


322  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

the  verge  of  a  stubble-field,  not  a  dozen  yards  away,  and 
his  own  dog  was  in  the  act  of  delivering  up  a  quail,  still 
fluttering,  at  his  feet. 

"  You  may  not  be  aware  that  you  have  rendered  yourself 
liable  to  prosecution  and  fine  by  shooting  quail  at  this 
season,"  began  Wynant,  temperately  enough.  "  I  could 
inform  against  you,  and  receive  a  share  of  the  fine  for  so 
doing,  but — " 

The  other  interrupted  him  by  a  volley  of  oaths,  directed 
first  at  the  laws,  secondly,  and  more  viciously,  at  Wynant, 
whom  he  addressed  by  name  and  stigmatized  as  a  "  bloody 
aristocrat,"  with  a  variety  of  other  less  complimentary  titles. 
Young  Darling  bore  the  attack  with  better  temper  than  I 
should  have  expected. 

"  I  did  not  recognize  you  when  I  first  spoke,"  he  said-  "  I 
know  now  who  you  are,  and  that  this  is  not  your  only  offence 
of  this  kind.  You  were  warned  off  the  Brightwood  fields 
last  month  by  my  brother's  farmer,  for  firing  into  a  covey  of 
half-grown  partridges.  1  shall  enter  a  complaint  against  you 
at  the  next  term  of  court,  for  wilful  and  repeated  violation 
of  the  game  laws  of  this  State.  It  is  pot-hunters  and  loafers 
like  you  who  are  ruining  our  hunting  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  destroying  the  birds  before  they  are  grown,  and 
making  those  you  don't  kill,  so  wild  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  getting  near  to  them  when  the  season  comes.  These  are 
my  brother's — Pressley  Darling's — grounds, and  I  order  you  to 
take  yourself  and  your  dog  out  of  them.  You  mean  to  carry 
those  quails  home  to  your  uncle,  to  be  cooked,  I  suppose. 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  323 

Say  to  him  for  me  that  he  becomes  your  accomplice  if  ha 
receives  them." 

"  I  shan't  budge  'till  I'm  good  and  ready  !  "  blustered  the 
poacher,  with  another  broadside  of  profanity. 

"  '  Good  '  you  will  never  be.  '  Ready'  you  are  now,  or  I'll 
put  you  out  into  the  road,  willy-nilly  ! "  said  Wynant,  draw- 
ing up  his  athletic  form,  and  so  evidently  meaning  what  he 
said  that  the  loafer  called  in  his  dog,  and  skulked  off  sulkily, 
growling  hoarse  curses  at  every  step. 

"A  load  of  buck-shot  in  his  filthy  carcass  wouldn't  be  a 
bad  investment,"  remarked  Wynant,  contemptuously.  "  You 
know  who  the  vagabond  is,  I  suppose  ?  Gaskin's  nephew. 
Don't  you  remember  the  brazen  calf  of  Ailsie's  lecture  upon 
the  '  Life  and  Character  of  Moses  ?  '  laughing  at  the  recol- 
lection. "  His  father  died  last  year,  and  this  valuable  citizen 
came  back  on  his  affectionate  uncle  for  home  and  provender. 
.  Ezra  put  him  on  the  farm,  at  the  tail  of  a  plough,  and  Mrs. 
Ezra  hammered  away  at  him  when  he  was  in  the  house  to 
get  '  chores '  out  of  him.  But  a  lazier,  tipsier  dog  never 
emigrated  from  city  to  country,  and  that  is  saying  much. 
His  relatives  cannot  actually  disown  him,  or  send  him  to  the 
poor-house,  but  he  is  a  rankling  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  frugal 
respectable  pair.  He  will  not  work,  and  he  will  drink  !  The 
best  disposition  they  could  make  of  him  would  be  to  lock 
him  up  in  the  garret  for  a  week,  with  a  tapped  barrel  of 
Jersey  lightning.  That  might  finish  him.  Although  it  is  a 
tough  job  killing  off  that  kind.  If  the  truth  were  known,  we 
should  learn  that  he  slept  under  somebody's  haystack  last 


324  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

night.     That  is  the  reason  he  is  abroad  so  early.     As  like  as 
not,  he  was  rooted  out  of  his  bed  by  the  other  pigs." 

I  gave  a  parting  glance  at  the  miserable  object  disappear- 
ing among  the  trees.  An  overgrown,  hulking  boy,  ruined, 
soul  and  body,  at  eighteen.  "  Outcast,"  stamped  upon  every 
lineament  of  his  dirt-seamed  visage,  unshorn  of  the  reddish 
down  of  incipient  manhood,  and  in  every  rent  of  his  shabby 
clothes.  His  unkempt  hair,  carroty  red,  protruded  through 
the  gaps  in  his  slouched  hat,  and  hung  in  a  mat,  down  to  his 
eyes,  bloodshot  and  ugly  as  any  bull-dog's.  Mine  had  never 
rested  upon  a  more  unsightly  figure  or  face.  In  the  clean, 
pure-scented  country  he  was  abominable  beyond  compari- 
son. I  thought  in  genuine  compassion,  of  the  bustling 
housewife,  once  my  landlady ;  of  her  fidgety  neatness  at 
home,  and  her  respect  for  the  opinions  of  the  community 
that  was  all  the  world  she  had  ever  known.  The  foul  sot 
must  be  a  grotesque  feature  amid  the  shining  cleanliness  of 
the  farm  kitchen,  where  the  grand-dame  used  to  rattle  all 
movable  properties  in  her  rainy-day  "  pottering." 

How  long  ago  it  seemed  !  and  how  uncertain  the  identity 
of  the  sickly  lad,  tormented  into  womanish  peevishness  by  the 
poor  old  woman's  evolutions,  with  the  muscular  sportsman 
of  this  glorious  Fall  morning,  affluent  in  strength,  love,  and 
hope  ! 

We  made  "  a  day  of  it,"  as  Wynant  had  threatened.  The 
number  and  complaisance  of  lawful  woodcock  had  not  been 
over-lauded.  Our  gallant  retriever  did  not  flag  once  in  per- 
severing search  and  honest  returns,  and  each  of  us  was  so 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  325 

successful  in  his  own  shots  as  to  move  him  to  generous  ad- 
miration of  his  comrade's  skill.  Rather  leg-weary,  but  in 
gay  spirits,  we  struck  the  main  road  a  mile-and-a-half  from 
home  when  the  sun  was  near  setting,  and  trudged  leisurely 
down  the  "  long  hill,"  on  a  plateau  of  which  stood  the  Bright- 
wood  cottage. 

"What  are  your  present  emotions  supperward  ?"  inquired 
Wynant,  shifting  his  gun  to  the  other  shoulder  and  adjusting 
the  strap  of  his  game-bag  to  a  new  position. 

"I  yearn  !"  replied  I,  in  forcible  slang.  "The  cold  bite 
at  noon  exasperated  me  to  renewed  voracity  instead  of  allay- 
ing my  pangs.  As  a  little  water  on  a  fire  is  worse  than 
none." 

"I  was  savage  upon  pot-hunters,  this  morning,"  Darling 
proceeded  to  confess.  "  But  there  is  something  transport- 
ing in  the  reflection  that  one  has  shot  that  which  is  eatable, 
when  there  is*a  void — or  your  '  cold  bite — '  where  should 
repose,  in  process  of  amiable  digestion,  a  good  dinner. 
'  Broiled  woodcock  for  breakfast '  hath  a  goodly  jingle  in  such 
circumstances." 

"'Broiled  chicken  at  an  early  supper'  is  more  to  the 
point." 

"  '  Plato  !  thou  reasonest  well ! '  Come  in,  you  rascal !  " 
to  the  dog  who  darted  after  a  rabbit's  white  tail  in  a  sumach- 
bush.  "  I'll  break  your  head,  sir ! "  menacing  poor  Frank 
with  the  butt  of  the  gun,  "  if  I  catch  you  at  such  low  work 
as  that  again  !  There's  nothing  spoils  a  dog's  nose  for  deli- 
cate game  like  rabbit-hunting." 


326  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  Is  your  gun  loaded  ?"  I  asked. 

Mrs.  Darling,  in  consideration  of  Hobby's  propensity  to 
meddle  with  dangerous  toys,  had  laid  down  as  a  positive  rule 
that  no  loaded  fire-arms  should  be  brought  into  the  house. 

"Yes!" 

He  stopped,  raised  the  piece,  his  finger  on  the  trigger, 
then  dropped  it  back  to  its  rest  within  his  arm. 

"I'll  let  Ailsie  fire  it  off  when  we  get  home.  She  likes  to 
do  it.  There's  the  making  of  a  first-rate  marksman  in  her. 
Next  year,  I  shall  get  a  light  fowling-piece  for  her  and  take 
her  gunning  whenever  I  go." 

"A  novel  accomplishment  for  a  young  lady,"  quoth  I, 
carelessly. 

"Accomplishments  be  hanged!  I  mean  that  girl  to  be 
brought  up  sensibly,  and  according  to  hygienic  laws.  She 
can  row  and  swim  now,  and  would  be  a  good  whip  but  for 
Ev/s  fear  to  trust  her  with  a  horse  under  fifteen  years  old. 
She  handles  a  gun  beautifully,  as  you'll  see  presently.  Never 
winks,  or  lets  it  kick.  There's  not  an  atom  of  affectation 
about  her.  By  Jove  I  what  a  magnificent  woman  she  will 
be!" 

"  When  she  can  bring  down  woodcock  on  the  wing — and 
drive  four-in-hand  ?  "  interpolated  I.  "  And — in  what  other 
manly  accomplishment  do  you  propose  to  make  her  profi- 
cient?" 

Secretly  pleased  at  his  unsuspecting  enthusiasm,  I  guarded 
the  manifestation  of  my  relish  at  the  turn  the  talk  had  taken. 
Since  the  dialogue  on  the  piazza  on  the  morning  succeeding 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  327 

my  arrival,  my  resolution  to  win  the  family  prize,  if  not  more 
firm,  was  more  distinctly  denned  in  my  own  mind,  yet  more 
discreetly  veiled  from  general  view.  Least  of  all  would  I 
put  into  the  teazing  uncle's  hand  the  instrument  of  annoy- 
ance to  Ailsie,  should  his  amusement  at  the  discovery  of 
what  he  would  regard  as  an  unparalleled  joke,  exceed  the 
bounds  of  affectionate  consideration  for  her  feelings. 

"You  may  laugh,  if  you  like  1"  he  retorted,  half-offended. 
"  But  she  will  be  a  glorious  girl  by  the  time  she  is  sixteen. 
And  you  people  who  don't  appreciate  her  fully  now  will  be 
glad  to  join  in  her  praises.  Where  will  you  see  another  eye 
and  step  like  hers  ?  Did  you  ever  know  another  child  who 
had  one-tenth  of  her  sense  and  wit  ?  You  like  her  as  a  child 
— a  nice  plaything,  because  she  entertains  you  in  your  vaca- 
tions and  leisure  hours.  You  never  look  forward  to  what 
she  will  become.  Wait  until  you  begin  to  know  her  as  I 
do!" 

He  marched  on,  Frank  still  cowering  at  his  heels,  the 
memory  of  the  brandished  gun  fresh  upon  him,  and  I  fell 
back  to  laugh  in  my  sleeve  at  the  honest  heat  of  the  warm- 
hearted, dull-sighted  athlete,  whom  not  even  his  own  be- 
trothal had  enlightened  as  to  the  signs  of  another's  affection. 

"  Speak  of  the  angels  and  you'll  hear  their  wings  !  "  he 
said  abruptly,  halting,  finger  uplifted  and  face  alight. 

Up  the  wooded  road  floated  the  voice  of  one  who  sang  as 
she  strolled  toward  us.  She  was  coming  to  meet  us,  not 
thinking  that  we  were  so  close  to  her.  We  stepped  to  the 
turf  edging  the  highway,  that  she  might  come  full  upon  us 


328  MY  LITTLE  LOrE. 

at  the  next  turning,  now  scarcely  a  hundred  yards  off.  She 
should  not  be  balked  in  her  contemplated  surprise.  Wynant 
looked  to  the  trigger  and  cap  of  his  gun,  that  it  might  be  in 
readiness  for  her  fingers. 

We  could  hear,  the  words,  now.  I  had  caught  the  air  at 
once  ;  knew  that  she  was  dreamy,  not  expectant,  thinking 
out  '  beautiful  things '  in  her  sunset  walk. 

I  have  lived  over  those  two  minutes,  a  million  times,  tor- 
turing my  imagination  with  vain  thoughts  of  what  might  have 
been  changed  had  I  done  this,  or  that,  or  had  Wynant  acted 
differently. 

If  he  had  discharged  his  gun  according  to  his  intention. 
If  Frank  had  been  suffered  to  run  on,  as  was  his  wont  in 
Hearing  home.  If  we  had  continued  to  converse  in  our  or- 
dinary key.  If  the  ring  of  our  heels  upon  the  stony  high- 
way had  betrayed  our  proximity.  If  one  or  all  of  these 
things  had  happened,  this  story  might  never  have  been 
written. 

And  always,  in  the  agony  of  the  retrospect,  the  useless  re- 
gret and  unavailing  longing,  I  am  walking  on  to  meet  the 
well-known  figure,  which  I  am  sure  will  wear  the  oriole  plum- 
age I  have  told  her  I  like  best ;  straining  my  eyes  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  buff  dress  between  tree-boles,  and  under  low- 
hanging  branches,  the  while  I  picture  to  myself  exactly  what 
I  shall  see — a  form  as  erect  and  a  step  as  free  as  a  gypsy 
queen's  ; — nut-brown  hair  tossed  back  from  the  dark,  warm- 
tinted  face, — the  matchless  eyes  yet  dusky  with  thought-shad- 
ows,— the  smile  that  will  end  the  song. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  329 

Still  the  silvery,  dreamy  singing  draws  nearer  and  nearer. 
We  do  not  lose  a  syllable  now,  catch  the  accent  of  each  note. 

"  Oh  !  cold  was  the  night-wind  that  blew  'round  her  bower, 
It  chilled  my  poor  Kathleen  ; — she  drooped  from  that  hour, 
And  I  lost  my  own  Kathleen,  my  sweet  little  Kathleen — 

My  Kathleen  O'More  ! " 

The  holy  calm  of  the  sunset  was  broken  by  a  wild  shriek. 
Another  and  another  followed, — wrung  out  by  the  extremity 
of  physical  or  mental  distress, — ere  our  swiftest  run  carried 
us  around  the  curve  in  the  road,  and  in  sight  of  what  it  had 
hidden. 

The  besotted  wretch  we  had  met  that  morning  was  there, 
grinning  fiendishly  into  the  face  of  her  he  held  fast  by  both 
arms.  We  comprehended  the  situation  at  a  glance.  He 
had  sprung  out  at  her  from  the  covert  of  underwood  with  a 
drunken  notion  of  a  practical  jest,  or  in  revenge  for  her 
uncle's  language  to  him  in  the  forenoon.  We  both  reached 
them  at  the  same  second. 

"  Ailsie  ! "  I  cried. 

Wynant  panted — "  You  villain  !  " 

I  saw  my  darling  reel  and  sink,  released  from  the  rough 
clutch,  and  caught  her  before  she  reached  the  ground.  I 
heard,  not  conscious  then  that  I  did  so,  a  scuffle,  a  rain  of 
blows  and  kicks,  groans  and  curses  uttered  in  a  thick,  coarse 
voice.  It  was  nothing  to  me  how  the  ruffian  fared,  while  I 
held  my  shaken  flower  upon  my  breast,  and  strove,  by  caress 
and  reassuring  word,  to  restore  color  to  the  livid  face,  and 


33°  MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

quiet  the  convulsive  trembling  that  threatened  to  banish  life 
as  it  had  strength.  Carrying  her  to  a  grassy  glade  in  the 
woods,  out  of  hearing  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  road,  I 
laid  her  gently  down,  pillowing  her  head  upon  my  arm,  and 
fanning  her  with  my  hat.  I  told  her  she  was  safe  and  with 
me  ;  implored  her  to  look  at  and  speak  to  me — to  see  for 
herself  that  the  danger  was  over. 

The  power  of  articulation  was  utterly  gone.  She  could 
only  sob  tearlessly,  each  breath  jarring  her  entire  frame. 
Her  eyes  had  not  opened  since  my  call  to  her  had  caused  the 
brute  to  relax  his  hold. 

"  We  must  get  her  home  without  delay,"  I  said,  when 
Wynant  joined  us,  breathless  from  his  struggle.  "  Don't 
speak  to  her  !  She  cannot  answer.  Go  on  and  explain  what 
has  happened  ! " 

In  the  ditch,  between  the  wheel-track  and  the  stone  fence, 
was  stretched  a  thing,  that  might  be  alive  or  dead,  filthy  with 
blood  and  dust.  I  did  not  give  it  a  second  look,  or  a 
thought,  except  a  passing  emotion  of  gratitude  that  Ailsie 
could  not  see  it. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"  GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART." 

'RESSLEY  DARLING  met  me  at  the  entrance 
of  the  grove  surrounding  the  house,  and,  dumb 
with  haste  and  alarm,  held  out  his  arms  to  re- 
lieve me  of  the  weight   that   still   lay   against   my 
shoulder.     He   was  her  father.     She  had  told  me 
once  that  she  was  willing  to  lay  down  her  life  for 
his.     But  I  shook  my  head  and  pressed  on,  never 
resigning  the  dear  burden  until  I  laid  her  upon  her 
mother's  bed,  and  in  her  mother's  embrace. 

Her  hand  fastened  feebly  upon  the  lappel  of  my 
coat,  when  I  would  have  raised  myself  upright.     The  eyelids 
were  lifted  with  effort,  and  the  poor,  unbent  mouth  tried  to 
speak — once — twice — before  the  words  escaped  : 
"  I  am  so  sorry  !     Forgive  me  !     I  am  very  sorry! " 
Sorry  that,  in  succumbing  to  the  shock  that  had  prostrated 
body  and  sense,  she  had  given  us  trouble. 

"My  precious  love!"  I  said,  heedless  who  might  hear. 
"  Do  not  speak,  do  not  think  of  us  !  We  are  only  thankful  to 
have  you  look  at  and  know  us  again.  Remember  this,  and 
nothing  else.  Can  you  swallow  this  for  me  ?  " 

She  tasted  the  lavender-and-water  Aunt  Evy  had  prepared, 
and  did  not  like  it. 


332  MY  LITTL E  LOVE. 

"  Must  I  ? ;'  looking  at  me. 

"  If  you  love  me,  dear  !  " 

She  raised  her  head  and  took  every  drop,  sinking  back 
with  a  sigh  of  exhaustion,  and  a  long,  shuddering  gasp. 

"  It  was  dreadful !  The  man,  I  mean  ! "  catching  my 
hand  and  whispering,  while  her  features  worked  uncontrolla- 
bly. "  He  was  drunk  !  " 

The  word  rang  out  in  shrill  distress,  and  hiding  her  face 
with  her  hands,  she  began  to  sob  again  in  tearless  suffering. 

The  father's  face  was  dark  with  wrath,  and  I  heard  a 
muttered  curse  from  Wynant.  Tears  dropped  fast  from  the 
mother's  eyes  in  folding  her  child  to  her  bosom.  Aunt  Evy's 
met  mine  across  the  bed  in  awed  questioning  and  entreaty. 

"  Ailsie  ! "  I  stooped  to  say,  steadily,  and  with  something 
of  authority  blended  with  my  tenderness, — "  You  are  quite 
safe,  now.  Neither  that  man  nor  any  other  shall  ever  annoy 
you  again.  We  will  take  such  good  care  of  you  in  future 
that  there  shall  be  no  risk  of  this.  He  is  a  foolish,  bad  boy 
— Ziba  Gaskin — do  you  recollect  him  ?  who  meant  to  play 
a  trick  upon  you.  He  has  not  harmed  you.  He  never 
shall.  Try  to  believe  this,  dear  child  !  " 

"  I'll  blow  him  to  atoms  if  he  tries  it  on  again  !  "  put  in 
Wynant,  his  voice  cracking  queerly  when  he  tried  to  laugh. 

"  Now,  we  will  all  go  out  and  leave  her  with  mamma  for 
a  while,"  said  sagacious  Aunt  Evy,  motioning  to  us  to  follow 
her.  "  Our  hunters  must  be  almost  famished,  and  supper  is 
ready." 

In  shutting  the  door  after  me,  my  eye  lingered  upon  the 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  333 

two  who  lay  upon  the  bed,  the  final  red  ray  of  sunset  seem- 
ing to  band  them  in  a  closer  embrace. 

'"As  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth  ! '  "  I  repeated, 
inly. 

Even  love's  jealousy  could  not  interfere  there.  In  no  other 
arms  would  I  have  been  content  to  leave  my  best- 
beloved. 

The  supper  table  waited  vainly  for  mother  and  daughter. 
The  rest  of  us  made  some  poor  feint  of  eating,  and  adjourned 
to  the  piazza  to  discuss,  over  and  over  again,  the  incident  of 
the  afternoon,  in  guarded  tones,  and  with  indignation  that 
grew  hotter  with  each  repetition  of  the  scene. 

Pressley  Darling  never  sat  down  for  an  instant,  and  his 
stride  from  end  to  end  of  the  portico  was  portentous  of 
further  vengeance  upon  the  creature  still  lying,  for  aught  we 
knew  or  cared,  in  the  ditch  beyond  the  road.  Wynant 
could  not  forgive  himself  for  having  left  a  vestige  of  life  in 
him.  Miss  Marr  and  I,  seeming  to  hearken  to  his  blood- 
thirsty regrets,  pondered,  each  knowing  that  the  other  did 
so,  upon  the  probable  extent  of  the  harm  already  done,  and 
what  looked  like  the  malignant  fate  that  so  strangely  pursued 
a  being  so  harmless  and  lovable.  Repeated  disasters  of  the 
kind  that  had  so  strangely  befallen  her  would  be  hurtful  to 
children  of  stouter  nerve  and  coarser  sensibilities.  We 
dared  not  speak  of,  or  fairly  contemplate  what  they  might 
bring  upon  this  one. 

Luckless  Wynant  blundered  upon  the  hidden  rock,  pres- 
ently. 


334  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  It's  confoundedly  queer  when  you  come  to  think  it  all 
over  !  It  would  appear  as  if  Fate  had  an  actual  spite  against 
that  child  ! "  he  was  so  bereft  as  to  say.  "  There  was  the 
first  scare  with  the  drunken  loafer  in  town  years  ago.  Then, 
the  thunderstorm  that  killed  this  vagabond's  grandmother. 
Next,  the  chill  on  Thanksgiving-Day.  Now,  this  infamous 
piece  of  work.  I  don't  suppose  any  of  you  have  looked  at 
it  in  this  light.  Odd — isn't  it  ?  " 

His  brother  stopped  short  in  front  of  him. 

"  Don't  charge  upon  Providence — for  there  is  no  such 
power  as  Fate — the  egregious  carelessness  or  vice  of  man  ! 
These  were  the  causes  of  all  the  casualties  you  have  enume- 
rated, with  the  single  exception  of  the  thunderstorm.  I  do 
wish,  however,  that  the  consequences  of  others'  sins  had 
fallen  elsewhere  than  upon  the  head  of  this  sensitive,  inno- 
cent baby ! " 

After  which,  silence  reigned  throughout  the  group. 

At  nine  o'clock  Mrs.  Darling  called  from  an  upper  window 
in  a  gentle,  cheerful  voice,  designed,  we  comprehended,  to 
dissipate  our  apprehensions. 

"  Papa !  Ailsie  would  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  if  you  can 
come  up-stairs." 

He  was  absent  twenty  minutes  or  more,  returning  to  us 
with  softened  voice  and  mien. 

"  She  will  sleep  with  her  mother  to-night,"  he  said, 
addressing  me.  "She  is  almost  composed  again,  but  the 
evening  has  been  an  anxious  one  with  my  wife.  The  shudder- 
ing fits  recurred  at  brief  intervals,  for  two  hours.  Will  you 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  335 

look  in,  and  let  us  know  whether  or  not  a  sedative  is  advisa- 
ble ! " 

There  was  no  lamp  in  the  chamber,  and  the  harvest-moon, 
large  and  yellow,  filled  it  with  rich,  yet  chastened  light. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  Thanksgiving  night,"  said  Ailsie,  when 
I  had  felt  her  pulse  and  heard  that  she  was  "  pretty  well, 
only  trembly,  now  and  then." 

"  I  have  been  lying  here,  thinking  of  it.  I  am  a  regular 
nuisance  to  you  all.  The  most  accidental  child  I  ever  heard 
of.  Decidedly  the  scrape-y  one  of  the  family." 

She  never  hesitated  for  a  word.  If  none  lay  ready  to  her 
hand  she  made  one  for  the  occasion  and  went  on  with  what 
she  had  to  say. 

"  Mr.  Barry  !  " 

I  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  holding  her  hand,  as  on  that 
other  night,  when  I  had  first  said  to  myself  that  I  loved  her 
better  than  all  the  world  besides.  Her  disengaged  hand 
stole  timidly  up  my  sleeve.  Her  tone  and  look  were 
deprecatory. 

"Mr.  Barry!  Shall  I  always  be  a  coward?  And  will 
things  go  on  happening  to  me  all  my  life  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  darling  !  Very  pleasant  things.  You  wouldn't 
have  every  day  just  like  its  yesterdays  and  to-morrows." 

"Adventures,  I  mean.  Disagreeable  ones.  Catastro- 
phes ! "  The  word  was  a  mouthful,  but  she  managed  it 
cleverly.  "  I'd  rather  die  at  once  and  get  clear  of  it  all. 
I'm  like  a  foolish  little  mouse,  with  a  cat  watching  behind 
every  corner.  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  every  joint  in  me 


336  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

aches.  Only  because  I  was  silly  enough  to  get  frightened 
out  of  my  wits.  And  " — stretching  her  arms  over  her  head 
with  a  plaintive  little  moan — "  I  am  so  tired  !  " 

Twice  that  night  I  crept  to  the  door  of  Mrs.  Darling's 
room  and  listened  for  sound  from  within.  Once  it  was  a 
weary  sigh,  intermitted  by  a  slight  sob  that  brought  my  heart 
into  my  throat.  The  mother's  soothing  was  prompt  and 
love-full. 

"Mamma's  birdie  !  I  am  here,  my  blessing  !  " 

The  second  time,  I  could  hear  nothing  but  soft,  regular 
breathing,  and  returned  to  my  upper  chamber,  relieved  and 
comforted.  The  sun  was  up  when  I  again  passed  the  thresh- 
old. At  the  other  end  of  the  passage  was  Ailsie's  dormi- 
tory. The  door  was  standing  open,  and  I  had  a  view  of  the 
interior  clear  through  to  the  balcony  where  she  was  wont  to 
"  lay  her  pillows  on  hot  nights,  and,  like  Kathleen,  '  look  at 
the  moon  '  and  stars,  and  have  the  deliciousest  thinking 
times  all  to  herself." 

I  trod  cautiously  along  the  matted  hall  lest  I  should  awake 
the  slumberers  upon  the  lower  floor,  and  stood  within  the 
small  room.  It  was  bright  and  clean,  and  her  own  little 
treasures  were  disposed  about  the  walls  and  on  the  dressing- 
bureau.  An  ambrotype  of  myself  I  had  given  her  last  Christ- 
mas-Eve, had  accompanied  her  from  town,  and  now  occupied 
a  corner  bracket.  A  tiny  vase  of  flowers  was  set  in  front  of 
it,  and  the  frame  was  wreathed  with  ground  pine.  Streamers 
of  the  same  trailed  around  the  oval  mirror  and  made  a  cor- 
nice for  the  muslin  curtain  of  the  broad  window  that  opened 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  337 

down  to  the  balcony.  It  was  a  pretty  and  tasteful  bower, 
yet  the  bare  sadness  of  the  place  struck  coldly  to  my  heart. 
The  white  emptiness  of  the  low  bed  with  its  unrumpled 
coverlet  and  plump  pillows  ;  the  prim  arrangement  of  the 
furniture,  telling  that  no  living  presence  had  been  there  over- 
night— were  more  than  I  could  bear. 

I  shut  the  door  upon  the  pathetic  vacancy,  and  fled  the 
spot  as  I  would  fain  have  sped  away  from  the  associations  I 
had  aroused. 

In  the  main  hall  on  the  first  floor,  I  stopped  to  select  my 
unremarkable  summer  straw  from  half-a-dozen  hats  of  similar 
pattern  that  crowded  the  rack.  I  had  just  discovered  that 
I  had  taken  Wynant's  instead  of  my  own,  when  a  trailing 
step  that  I  did  not  recognize  stole  down  the  stairway  behind 
me.  It  was  Ailsie,  dressed  with  her  customary  care,  but 
heavy  eyed,  and  unsmiling  even  at  my  delighted  salutation. 

"  Is  it  possible  !  "  I  said.  "  Good  morning  !  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  that  you  are  well  enough  to  be  stirring  so  early. 
How  do  you  feel  ?  " 

I  took  her  hand  and  finding  it  drier  and  warmer  than  I 
liked,  would  have  slipped  my  finger  to  the  wrist,  but  she  drew 
it  away,  still  grave,  with  no  sign  of  her  habitual  liveliness. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you.  I  am  going  to  feed  the  chick- 
ens." 

"  Is  that  best  ?  Let  me  do  it  alone,  for  once.  Are  you 
strong  enough  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  !  Why  not  ?  " 

My  catechism  annoyed  her  for  some  reason.     Her  tone 


338  '  MY  LITTLE  L O  VE. 

was  almost  pettish,  and  she  went  off  to  the  barn  for  her  feed- 
basket,  with  no  intimation  by  word  or  sign,  that  she  desired 
my  company.  I  read  the  riddle,  or  believed  that  I  did. 
With  nerves  still  irritable  after  yesterday's  trial,  she  was 
ashamed  at  the  memory  of  her  weakness  and  shunned  all 
reference  to  it.  With  characteristic  philosophy  she  had 
determined  that  since  the  matter  could  not  be  helped,  she 
having,  as  she  judged,  made  herself  supremely  ridiculous  and 
the  cause  of  much  anxiety  to  others — the  less  said  about  it 
the  better.  It  was  natural,  too,  that  she  should  avoid  the 
revival  of  disagreeable  sensations  such  as  a  recapitulation  of 
the  roadside  scene  would  be  likely  to  awaken. 

She  was  a  sage  and  prudent  little  woman,  I  decided, 
while  weighing  these  considerations  and  assisting  her  in  col- 
lecting and  feeding  her  feathered  bantlings.  Any  other  child 
would  have  enjoyed  the  prolonged  sensation  and  continued 
petting,  maintained  the  role  of  heroine  as  long  as  we  would 
indulge  her  in  it.  Our  business  in  the  poultry-yard  was 
transacted  in  much  less  time  and  with  infinitely  less  spirit 
than  on  any  previous  occasion.  While  she  Avent  into  the 
kitchen  to  wash  her  hands,  I  purposely  preceded  her  to  the 
breakfast-room  and  served  notice  upon  the  party  assembled 
there  to  emulate  my  example  of  kindly  discretion.  Her 
entrance  was  greeted  affectionately,  but  without  marked 
demonstration  of  any  kind,  save  that  her  father  drew  her 
chair  closer  to  him,  as  she  sat  down,  and  Wynant  selected 
the  finest  woodcock  on  the  dish  for  her  eating,  with  the 
promise  that  he  would  teach  her  to  bring  down  more  and 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  339 

larger  birds  than  we  could  show,  if  she  would  become  his 
pupil  next  season.  She  was  shy  and  still,  while  we  talked 
merrily  and  took  no  visible  notice  of  her  indisposition  to 
follow  our  lead.  When  the  meal  was  over,  she  was  allowed 
to  go  to  the  piano  for  her  morning  practising. 

Aunt  Evy  and  I  talked  comfortably  and  without  fore- 
bodings, upon  the  piazza,  I  smoking,  and  she  busy  with  her 
fancy-knotting,  while  scales  and  exercises  and  set  pieces, 
more  or  less  difficult,  were  executed  by  the  patient  fingers. 

"  Wynant  visited  the  field  of  battle  early  this  morning," 
said  Miss  Marr,  sinking  her  voice.  "  His  vanquished  foe 
had  come  to  life,  apparently,  and  retreated  in  tolerable 
order.  I  imagine  our  young  Hercules  would  have  been 
better  pleased  if  he  had  been  obliged  to  crawl  home  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  She — "  motioning  toward  the  parlor — 
"  seems  almost  herself  again,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Except  for  the  slight  depression  which  is  the  reaction 
after  extreme  excitement,  increased,  I  suspect,  by  a  tinge  of 
mortification  at  the  part  she  played.  We  are  acting  wisely 
in  letting  her  believe  that  we  think  lightly  of  the  affair.  By 
to-morrow,  she  will  be  disposed  to  laugh  over  it.  The  fright 
is  too  recent  now." 

Aunt  Evy  shivered.  "  Thank  Heaven  it  has  ended  so 
well !  It  was  a  fearful  experiment  !  " 

"  Which  nobody  but  a  brute  or  a  fool  would  make  !  Don't 
spoil  my  last  day  with  you  by  setting  me  to  speculate  about 
what  has  not  happened.'' 

I  had  meant  to  give  most  of  the  day  to  Ailsie,  but  a  sue- 


340  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

cession  of  untoward  trifles  thwarted  intention  and  desire. 
Pressley  Darling,  who  had  come  up  from  town  but  two  days 
before  the  termination  of  my  visit,  invited  me  to  a  ramble 
with  him  before  Ailsie's  hour  was  more  than  three-quarters 
"  off  her  mind."  With  the  pardonable  energy  of  proprietor- 
ship, he  led  the  way  over  "  upland,  dale,  and  glen,"  in  the 
refreshing  persuasion  that  every  stick  and  stone  and  clod 
must  be  as  replete  with  interest  to  me  as  to  himself.  ,  It  was 
twelve  o'clock  when  we  got  back,  more  tired,  hot  and  dusty 
than  our  gunning  tramp  had  made  me.  Running  up  to  my 
room  for  a  cooling  bath  of  face  and  hands  before  dinner,  I 
observed  that  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  passage  was 
shut.  It  was  still  fast  when  my  simple  toilet  was  completed. 
Hoping  that  Ailsie  might  be  within,  I  whistled  softly,  two  or 
three  times — a  signal  long  ago  agreed  upon  between  us. 
The  doorway  remained  a  solid  blank.  Nor  did  I  see  the 
mistress  of  the  balconied  bower  until  we  all  sat  down  to 
dinner. 

In  the  afternoon  Squire  Darling,  with  his  lovely  old  wife 
and  an  assorted  carriage-load  of  grandchildren,  drove  over 
from  the  farm,  Rick,  my  most  formidable  rival,  acting  as 
outrider.  The  whole  party  remained  at  Brightwood  until 
after  supper.  Rick  monopolized  his  favorite  cousin,  accord- 
ing to  custom.  They  went  out  upon  the  lake  at  sunset, 
after  a  long  ramble  in  the  woods.  Sitting  with  their  elders 
on  the  piazza,  and  bearing  a  decent  part  in  their  discourse,  I 
watched  the  "  Midget,"  a  floating  speck  upon  the  incarna- 
dine glory  of  the  water ;  heard  the  young  voices  in  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  341 

boating-song  Ailsie  and  I  had  sung  together  on  other,  but 
never  fairer  evenings. 

"  O,  come,  maidens,  come,  o'er  the  blue  rolling  wave 
The  lovely  should  still  be  the  care  of  the  brave. 

Trancadillo  !  trancadillo ! 
With  moonbeam  and  eyebeam  we'll  bound  o'er  the  billow." 

From  a  sentiment  of  chivalric  generosity  that  had  its 
admixture  of  quiet  amusement,  I  had  kept  myself  aloof  from 
them  this  afternoon.  The  boy  should  have  a  fair  chance. 
But  I  was  not  amused  while  thus  watching  them.  Jealousy 
was  out  of  the  question.  Not  so,  disappointment.  I  wished 
the  excellent  relatives  had  postponed  their  visit  for  a  day  ;  I 
wished  more  heartily  that  they  had  not  stayed  with  us  until 
half  past  eight  o'clock,  preferring  to  wait  until  the  moon 
was  up. 

It  was  nine  o'clock — Ailsie's  nominal  bed-time,  before  I 
could  make  an  opportunity  to  say  a  few  sentences  to  her, 
alone.  Aunt  Evy  helped  me  by  more  adroit  manoeuvres 
than  my  impatient  artifices  could  claim  to  be  called,  or  this 
minute  morsel  of  cheer  would  not  have  been  mine. 

We  stood  together,  then,  on  the  porch  looking  lake-ward, 
the  honeysuckle,  freighted  with  dew  and  sweetness,  drooping 
to  my  shoulder  and  her  head — my  arm  about  her  waist,  my 
heart  too  full  for  much  speaking. 

"  You  will  not  fail  to  write  to  me,  every  week  ?  "  I  said. 
"  I  shall  be  very  lonely  and  home-sick  for  six  days.  Only 
tolerably  happy  on  that  on  which  I  receive  your  letter." 

"  I  shall  write  every  Tuesday,  regularly,"  she  replied. 


342  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

The  quiet  monotone  was  not  her  voice.  She  was  weary 
after  the  bustle  of  entertaining  her  visitors,  and,  like  myself, 
heavy  of  spirit.  She  would  miss  me  sadly,  I  knew,  and  the 
various  delights  of  the  holiday  we  had  enjoyed  in  company. 

"  How  you  have  grown  this  summer  !  "  remarked  I,  more 
brightly.  "  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  you  were  proud  of 
coming  up  to  my  elbow.  Don't  outgrow  your  strength  in 
your  anxiety  to  overtake  my  preposterous  inches." 

She  dropped  her  head  to  touch  my  hand  to  her  lips. 

"  How  good  you  have  been  to  me,  always  ! "  she  said, 
irrelevantly.  "  You  will  never  know — because  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  manage  my  words  well  enough  to  tell  you — how 
dearly,  dearly  I  love  you  !  " 

"  Eyes  and  kisses  are  better  than  words  for  that,  Ailsie  !  " 

Her  head  with  its  wealth  of  hair — "  outwardly  brown,  in- 
wardly golden  " — very  dark  in  the  moonlight,  returned  to  its 
resting-place  upon  my  heart,  for  a  long  moment. 

Then  she  raised  it,  sighing  under  the  pressure  of  thought 
or  fatigue. 

"  Mamma  will  be  wondering  why  I  do  not  go  to  bed,"  in 
the  even,  listless  tone  that  had  engaged  for  her  part  of  our 
correspondence.  "  Staying  here  doesn't  make  it  any  easier 
to  say  '  good-night.'  And  that  means  '  good-by,'  to-night. 
You  will  be  in  a  hurry  in  the  morning.  Everybody  else  will 
be  around,  too." 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  my  neck  as  I  bent  to  kiss 
her,  held  me  in  a  clinging  caress,  and  left  me  without  speak- 
ing again. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


"  WITHERED." 


» 


XE  forenoon   in  mid-October.  I  loitered  upon 

FH.W  V^l*1 

r*\i  if*  j/*]  the  hospital  steps,  after  an  hour's  walk  in  the 
sunshine,  reluctant  to  encounter  the  cool  dim- 
ness  of  the  interior.  The  very  streets  were 
less  noisy  than  was  usual  at  that  busy  hour. 
The  turmoil  of  traffic  was  attuned  to  something 
like  harmony  with  the  placid  perfectness  of  the 
day.  Autumn  —  the  ripeness,  not  decadence  of 
the  year  —  had  stayed  late  with  us.  Frosty  nights 
garlanded  the  trees  with  bright,  soft  jewels,  opened  the  nut- 
shells, changed  the  crude  juices  of  grapes  and  thick-skinned 
pears  to  spiced  syrups.  But  the  mornings  and  evenings  were 
bracing  —  not  keen  ;  the  noons  rich  and  bland.  % 

"'Lustrous  and  smiling!'"  I  quoted,  lingering  and  lux- 
uriating. "  Old  Burton  —  spirit  quaint  as  fine  —  said  it  of  a 
woman's  hair.  It  paints  this  day  to  a  charm.  The  man 
who  helps  me  to  a  felicitous  phrase  is  my  benefactor." 

A  wain,  loaded  high  with  wheat-straw,  had  stopped  on  the 
corner.  A  man  was  walking  slowly  toward  me  with  a  dozen 
red  balloons,  or  inflated  bladders,  such  as  children  play  with, 
floating  above  his  head  from  the  string  in  his  hand.  The 


344  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

golden  straw,  the  crimson  globes  caught  and  pleased  the  eye 
in  the  mild  glow  that  tempered  the  fierce  brick  dust  and 
vicious  greens  of  walls  and  shutters  in  the  tall  buildings  lining 
the  thoroughfare.  The  whole  was  a  goodly  study  of  color 
and  light. 

"  '  Lustrous  and  smiling  ! '"  I  reiterated,  and  smiled  my- 
self in  recollecting  who  had  said  to  me  once,  as  I  stroked 
and  praised  the  gleaming  waves  of  her  hair  : 

"It  does  well  enough,  I  dare  say.  If  only  it  didn't  have 
red  streaks — real  blaze-y  lines  across  it,  after  I  have  been 
wearing  it  braided  1  On  the  shiniest  parts — the  crinkles,  you 
know ! " 

My  office  was  on  the  second  floor  of  the  hospital,  sur- 
rounded by  rows  of  wards.  Not  an  attractive  retreat  for 
one's  leisure  hours,  and  certainly  not  a  place  to  which  one 
would  care  to  invite  his  friends.  Just  without  the  door  I 
met  an  attendant,  who  told  me  that  a  lady  had  been  waiting 
some  time  to  see  me.  Without  presentiment  that  she  might 
be  there  upon  other  than  professional  business,  I  entered  and 
saw  Mrs.  Darling  sitting  in  my  one  arm-chair. 

"  Ah,  Barry  !     At  last !  " 

The  exclamation  was  nervous,  or  impatient,  and  I  an- 
swered it  by  an  apology  before  she  could  explain. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  I  have  kept  you  waiting.  I  am  seldom 
out  at  this  hour.  If  I  had  had  the  remotest  idea  that  you 
were  in  town — 

Here  the  coldness  of  her  hand,  perceptible  through  her 
glove  as  I  pressed  it,  made  me  look  narrowly  at  her.  She 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  345 

smiled  and  spoke  cordially,  but  her  eyelids  were  slightly 
flushed,  and  her  lips  twitched  in  a  manner  very  foreign  to  her 
habitual  serenity. 

"Is  anything  wrong?"  I  asked  hastily.  "You  are  all 
well  ?  " 

She  resumed  her  chair.  The  trembling  of  the  mouth  was 
more  perceptible. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  anything  is  far  wrong.  I  have  been 
sadly  uneasy  for  several  weeks.  Pressley  is  away  from  home, 
as  you  know,  travelling  on  business  through  the  Western 
States.  I  have  not  written  to  him  of  what  troubles  me.  My 
fears  are  so  vague,  and  anxiety  would  only  unsettle  his  mind. 
In  a  case  like  this  where  there  is  no  pain,  or  fever,  one  is  at 
a  loss  how  to  describe  symptoms  accurately." 

She  had  begun  to  hurry  in  her  speech,  and  paused  to  col- 
lect thought  or  composure.  I  sat  quietly  opposite  to  her, 
genuinely  and  seriously  concerned  by  what  I  had  gleaned 
from  her  address.  Her  sister  was  my  own  by  adoption  and 
affection.  That  this  preamble  referred  to  her  I  never 
doubted.  I  had  had  no  letter  from  her  since  September,  and 
in  Ailsie's  weekly  bulletins  of  home  news,  there  were  repeated 
references  to  Aunt  Evy's  sick  headaches,  and  regrets  that 
she  "  did  not  seem  as  well  as  she  was  earlier  in  the  season." 

"  What  are  the  symptoms  that  have  alarmed  you  ?  "  I 
queried,  to  make  her  task  simpler. 

"Drowsiness,  lassitude,  and  a  lack  of  interest  in  what 
formerly  pleased  her.  At  times — but  this  is  not  frequent — 
an  outbreak  of  irritability  totally  unlike  her  natural  self. 
'5* 


346  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

Lately,  a  rapid  decrease  in  flesh  and  weight  that  is  unac- 
countable, since  her  appetite  is  moderately  good.  She  falls 
asleep  at  any  hour,  and  anywhere.  Twice  we  have  found 
her  lying  upon  the  parlor  floor  in  slumber — or  lethargy.  It 
is  more  like  that.  When  aroused,  she  is  dull  and  silent. 
Indeed,  she  shows  a  disinclination  for  conversation  most  of 
the  time.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  her  going  slowly  about 
the  light  duties  she  used  to  undertake  so  gladly.  She  is 
faithful  to  these  still.  She  must  always  be  conscientious. 
But  the  life  and  spring  are  gone." 

"  When  did  you  begin  to  notice  these  things  ?  "  I  inquired, 
more  to  give  her  time  to  recover  her  faltering  voice  than  for 
my  own  information.  Her  agitation  was  painful  to  behold, 
bravely  as  she  contended  with  its  exhibition. 

"  We  did  not  know  it  until  afterward,  but  she  slept  away 
all  the  forenoon  of  the  last  day  you  spent  with  us  at  Bright- 
wood.  I  had  to  send  up  to  her  room  at  dinner-time  to 
awaken  her.  Evy  and  I  have  feared — yet  we  cannot  under- 
stand how  that  could  be — we  dare  not  admit  the  possibility 
— but  these  symptoms  manifested  themselves  so  soon  after 
it —  Do  you  believe,  Barry,  that  the  fright  had  anything  to 
do  with  it  ?  " 

She  burst  into  tears. 

"  The  fright ! "  I  said,  huskily,  growing  cold  to  my  heart. 
"For  Heaven's  sake,  Mrs.  Darling,  don't  say  that  you  have 
been  telling  me  about  Ailsie !  I  thought  you  meant  Miss 
Marr  !  " 

"  Evy  is  well — for  her,  but  inexpressibly  anxious,"  she  re- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  347 

turned,  drying  her  eyes.  "  She  has  not  writtento  you  in  some 
weeks,  because  she  could  not,  and  conceal  the  truth.  And 
you  could  not  come  to  us.  It  was  enough  that  we  should  be 
unhappy,  without  distressing  you.  After  all,  we  may  be  un- 
necessarily alarmed." 

"  I  have  heard  from  Ailsie  every  week,"  I  said,  with  an 
effort  to  examine  the  case  rationally.  "  Her  letters  have 
not  been  long,  but  she  explained  that  by  saying  that  there 
was  little  new  to  tell  about  her  life  in  the  country,  now  that 
I  had  seen  everything  at  Brightwood." 

The  mother's  tears  rushed  up  again. 

"  Ah  !  those  letters  !  If  you  had  guessed  what  power  of 
patient  resolve  was  expended  upon  them  you  would  prize 
them  indeed.  On  a  certain  day,  at  a  given  hour,  she  would 
address  herself  to  the  business  of  writing  to  you,  persevering 
until  the  bottom  of  the  third  page  was  reached,  although 
ready,  sometimes,  to  fall  from  her  chair  when  this  was 
accomplished.  I  have  urged  her,  several  times,  to  postpone 
writing,  saying  that  you  would  excuse  her  if  she  were  not 
well.  Her  answer  was  always  to  the  same  effect :  "  I  prom- 
ised to  write  every  Tuesday,  and  I  am  not  sick."  Once  she 
added,  "  I  like  to  write  better  than  to  do  anything  else.  At 
least,  I  would,  if  my  hand  didn't  get  so  tired.  Somehow,  I 
feel  tired  all  through,  now  a  days.  Mamma,  do  you  suppose 
I  am  growing  lazy  ?  "  She  was  so  exhausted  by  our  ride, 
yesterday,  that  I  put  her  to  bed  as  soon  as  we  arrived  at 
home." 

"  She  is  here,  then  ?     In  your  own  house  ?  " 


348  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  Yes.  I  preceded  Evy  and  the  other  children  by  a  few 
days  that  I  might  get  the  house  settled,  and  brought  her 
along  ostensibly  for  company.  Really,  that  I  might  see  you 
and  secure  medical  advice.  She  showed  more  animation, 
this  morning,  at  the  thought  of  receiving  a  visit  from  you 
than  I  have  seen  her  display  in  many  weeks.  Can  you  call 
upon  us  to-day  ?  " 

"Not  before  four  o'clock  this  afternoon,"  I  replied,  sor- 
rowfully. "  I  can  get  off  duty,  then — perhaps  for  the  rest 
of  the  day." 

"  Come  to  tea  !  Ailsie  will  be  delighted.  That  is " — 
correcting  herself  in  a  failing  voice — "  as  nearly  delighted  as 
she  can  be,  now.  You  would  not  know  her,  Barry — our 
withered  blossom  !  " 

I  accompanied  her  to  the  front  entrance  ;  stood  there,  an 
instant,  looking  down  the  street  as  I  had  done,  not  thirty 
minutes  ago.  The  sunshine  slumbered  as  placidly  upon 
buildings  and  pavements.  The  steeple-clocks  were  striking 
twelve.  In  a  church-tower  some  blocks  away,  the  chimes 
were  playing,  ".Life  let  us  cherish."  Crowds  of  school-chil- 
dren were  trooping  along  the  sidewalks  bound  for  home  or 
frolic  in  the  noon  recess.  One — a  brown-haired  girl  about 
Ailsie' s  size,  looked  up  at  me  with  merry  eyes,  as  she 
bounded  by. 

Sick  of  brightness,  I  put  my  hand  to  my  dizzied  head,  and 
went  back  up-stairs,  nominally  and  mechanically,  to  work. 

"  You  would  not  know  her,  Barry — our  withered  blos- 
som !  " 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  349 

Of  the  interview  that  had  overturned  the  world  for  me,  I 
seemed  to  retain  but  that  one  sentence,  and  the  deeper 
heart-ache  (if  that  could  be  1  )  that  smote  me  with  the  hear- 
ing of  her  set  purpose,  persisted  in  so  painfully,  of  writing  to 
me. 

My  loyal  love  !  faithful  in  weakness  as  in  strength  ! 

I  not  know  Ailsie's  eyes  and  Ailsie's  smile  ?  "  Withered !  " 
My  hale  English  girl,  whose  wholesome  reserve  of  vitality 
might  bid  defiance  to  disease  for  a  century !  Had  I  dreamed 
the  horrible  scene,  from  beginning  to  end  ?  Could  I  have 
misunderstood  the  unhappy  mother  ?  Or  was  the  halluci- 
nation hers  ? 

By  four  o'clock  I  was  at  liberty  to  go  whither  I  would. 
Sky  and  wind  had  changed.  Gray  mists,  smelling  of  the  sea, 
were  streaming  up  in  plumy  pennons  from  the  east.  The 
low  sun  was  already  hidden.  One  would  hardly  have  known 
the  day  for  the  same.  The  phrase  strayed  of  itself  into  my 
mind  and  from  my  tongue.  "  Not  know  it  for  the  same." 
Would  that  other  change  be  as  woful  ?  My  heart  beat  fast, 
yet  with  difficulty,  as  I  turned  into  the  well-remembered 
street. 

The  parlor  shutters  were  open,  and  a  face  was  watching 
for  me  in  the  old  place.  The  next  moment  I  was  within  the 
door  ;  the  wasted  form  lying  upon  my  bosom,  raised  in  my 
embrace  as  I  might  hold  an  infant.  When  I  could  speak, 
and  dared  trust  myself  to  look  into  her  face,  I  drew  her  near 
the  window,  and  scanned  the  altered  features.  Her  mother 
was  partly  right.  But  for  her  eyes  I  should  hardly  have 


35o  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

been  able  to  identify  her  with  the  plump,  rosy  gypsy  1  had 
parted  with,  five  weeks  before. 

Yet — and  the  truth  went  through  my  heart  like  a  knife — 
she  was  less  like  a  sick  than  an  etherealized  child.  Her 
complexion  was  purely  pale — not  sallow.  There  was  even 
a  flush  of  pink  in  her  cheeks.  And  the  eyes — that  had 
deepened  as  well  as  enlarged  and  brightened — how  shall  I 
paint  the  wistful  intensity — the  languor  of  yearning  in  their 
gaze  ?  They  were  the  gates  of  the  soul  always  ;  now,  not 
ajar,  but  opened  wide  by  some  mysterious  touch — of  what 
angel,  I  shuddered  to  think. 

"  Don't  stare  at  me  so  hard  !  "  she  said,  trying  to  avert 
her  face.  "  Indeed,  I  am  not  sick.  I  haven't  an  ache  or  a 
pain.  People  worry  me  out  of  all  patienc"  by  saying  how 
much  I  have  '  fallen  away.'  Old  Mrs.  King,  our  house- 
cleaner,  screeched  right  out  yesterday,  when  she  opened  the 
door  for  us.  'Land's  sake  1  but  ain't  she  failed  powerful, 
mem  ?  '  I  wish  they  would  mind  their  own  business  !  " 

"  So  do  I ! "  responded  1,  sincerely.  "  But  my  business  is 
to  set  you  up  strong  and  plump  again,  and  I  mean  to  set 
about  it,  forthwith.  What  is  the  use  of  having  a  doctor  in 
the  family  if  you  never  give  him  anything  to  do  ?  " 

The  hand  I  fondled  was  thin,  and  the  palm  dry,  with  a 
peculiar  look  about  the  latter  that,  more  than  anything  else 
in  her  appearance,  justified  the  epithet  of  "withered."  I 
noted  this  at  the  time,  as  a  phenomenon,  with  no  misgiving 
as  to  its  real  significance.  Nor,  watch  and  study  her  as  I 
might  and  did,  throughout  that  portion  of  the  evening  she 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  351 

spent  with  us  ;  nor  in  the  long  talk  I  held  with  her  mother 
after  she  went  to  bed,  could  I  detect  the  probable  secret  of 
the  fearful  change  wrought  in  these  brief  weeks.  For  all 
our  united  wisdom  could  discover,  it  was  as  causeless,  save 
for  the  nervous  shock  she  had  received  in  September,  as  the 
wasting  of  a  snow-drift  on  a  sunless  winter  day  with  the 
thermometer  at  zero. 

The  east  wind  was  strong  and  bitter  when  I  emerged  from 
the  house.  For  this  reason,  and  no  other,  as  I  then  believed, 
I  chose  a  different  route  from  that  I  generally  took  back  to 
my  rooms — one  sheltered  for  most  of  its  length  by  solid 
blocks  of  houses.  Skirting  these  at  a  swinging  gait,  with  my 
head  down  and  thoughts  busy  with  those  I  had  left,  I  ran 
directly  against  a  gentleman  who  was  coming  from  the  oppo- 
site direction. 

"  I  beg  pardon  !  "  we  said  simultaneously. 

"  Dr.  Tremaine  !  "  I  subjoined.  "  I  trust  I  have  not  hurt 
you  ! "  recognizing  a  leading  physician  of  the  city  and  a 
constant  friend  of  my  own. 

"  Dr.  Haye — is  it  not  ?  "  holding  his  hat  fast  on  his  head 
in  the  rushing  wind.  "  This  is  an  odd  happening  !  I  was 
thinking  of  you.  There  is  a  man  in  your  hospital  in  whom 
I  am  much  interested.  Would  you  object  to  my  turning 
back  with  you  for  some  talk  about  him  ?  Your  office  is 
nearer  than  mine,  or  I  would  invite  you  to  go  on  with  me." 

In  three  minutes  we  were  snugly  established  before  my 
fire,  launched  on  the  high  tide  of  conversation. 

The  original  topic  disposed  of,  he  arose. 


352  M Y  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  You  are  doing  me  a  personal  kindness  in  promising  to 
look  after  this  case,"  he  said,  in  his  terse,  nervous  style. 

Everything  pertaining  to  moral,  mental  or  pecuniary  dis- 
order falls,  with  the  man  of  medicine,  under  the  head  of 
"  case  "  as  naturally  as  do  bodily  ailments. 

"  If  I  can  ever  do  anything  to  prove  my  appreciation  of  it, 
please  command  me." 

Thus  it  happened — again  a  "  happening,"  as  I  supposed — 
that  I  entered  upon  a  description  of  Ailsie's  condition  and 
my  perplexity  respecting  it. 

He  listened,  standing,  to  a  synopsis  of  the  symptoms, — 
then,  the  physician  soul  fairly  alive,  he  dropped  into  a  chair, 
and  questioned  sharply  and  rapidly.  This  over,  he  sat  in 
profound  deliberation  for  at  least  five  minutes,  plucking  at 
his  under  lip  and  projecting  his  eyebrows  as  he  had  a  queer 
habit  of  doing.  I  got  up  to  mend  the  fire. 

"  He  knows  no  more  about  it  than  I  do  !  "  I  was  solilo- 
quizing mentally,  leaning  over  the  grate,  tongs  in  hand,  when 
he  spoke  two  words. 

|The  tongs  crashed  upon  the  fender,  and  I  confronted  him 
with  a  face  which  I  felt  grow  ghastly. 

"  Impossible  ! "  I  said. 

"It  is  easily  ascertained,"  he  answered,  with  diabolical 
coolness.  "  If  the  case  were  mine  I  would  know  the  truth 
in  less  than  twenty- four  hours." 

I  had  to  control  myself  by  the  recollection  that  he  had 
never  seen  the  proposed  patient  before  I  could  reply. 

"  It  shall  be  yours  !     I  cannot  go  with  you  in  the  morn- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  353 

ing,  but  you  can  return  the  slight  service  I  have  ren- 
dered you,  a  thousand-fold,  by  calling  upon  Mrs.  Darling 
early  in  the  day.  I  will  write  a  note  of  introduc- 
tion." 

With  treacherous  fingers  I  penned  the  few  lines  that  told    : 
Ailsie's  mother  who  the  bearer  was,  and  what  were  his  recom- 
mendations   to  her    confidence.      Dr.   Tremaine  eyed  me 
keenly  under  his  beetling  brows,  thumb  and  fore-finger  pulling 
at  his  lip. 

"  You  say  the  child  is  between  ten  and  eleven  years  old  ?  " 
he  said,  puzzled  probably  by  my  evident  disquiet,  and  search- 
ing for  an  adequate  reason. 

"  She  will  not  be  eleven  until  late  in  December." 

"  That  is  against  her,  if  my  hypothesis  with  regard  to  her 
malady  be  correct.  There  is  not  a  case  on  record  of  recov- 
ery from  the  disease  I  have  named,  when  the  patient  was 
under  twenty  years  of  age.  Frankly — and  I  have  made  the 
matter  a  specialty — I  regard  it  as  incurable  at  any  age. 
Much  may  be  accomplished  in  the  way  of  sustenance  of  the 
decaying  powers  by  tonics  and  dietetics ;  but  the  end  is  in- 
evitable. It  is  a  mere  question  of  time." 

I  think  I  was  nearer  actual  murder  at  that  instant  than  at 
any  other  period  of  my  life.  I  hated  him  in  whose  hands  I 
had  placed  the  verdict  of  living  or  dying  for  my  darling.  I 
could  scarcely  reply  civilly  to  the  friendly  nonchalance  of 
his  "  Good-night." 

"  Rely  upon  my  prompt  attention  to  the  case  we  have 
been  discussing ! "  he  said,  as  he  took  leave.  "  The  more  I 


354  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

think  of  it,  the  more  firm  is  my  conviction  that  my  interpre- 
tation of  the  mystery  is  the  right  one." 

"  How  dared  he !  how  dared  he  ! "  I  ground  out,  from 
between  my  clenched  teeth,  when  the  room  was  clear  of  him 
and  his  odious  theorizing.  "  If  it  be  proved  that  he  is  mis- 
taken, I  will  never  forgive  him,  never  ! " 

Then  I  threw  myself  upon  the  floor,  and  wept  like  a  hys- 
terical woman,  over  my  withered  blossom. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
"PULLING  THROUGH." 

N  three  days  we  knew  the  worst  there  was  to 
tell,  or  to  hear.  Terrified  and  overwhelmed 
by  Dr.  Tremaine's  opinion  of  her  daughter's 
state,  Mrs.  Darling  called  a  consultation  of 
the  ablest  men  known  to  the  profession  in  our  city, 
to  reverse,  or  confirm  his  decision.  But  one  gave 
the  shadow  of  hope,  and  his  views  were  based  upon 
a  foreign  treatise  on  this  and  cognate  maladies,  of 
which  he  had  just  received  an  advance  copy. 
I  borrowed  the  pamphlet,  copied  it  entire,  and  the  regimen 
imposed  by  it,  as  the  slender  chance  of  salvation  from 
death,  was  adopted  without  delay.  I  am  thankful  there  is 
no  need  for  me  to  enter  here  into  the  details  of  the  privations 
to  which  the  patient  child  was  subjected  by  our  obedience  to 
the  Paris  physician's  code.  I  would  rather  remember  that 
no  medicines  were  given  her  except  tonics,  that  every  luxury 
permitted  by  the  regulations  governing  her  diet  was  procured 
for  her  ;  that,  one  and  all,  we  followed  zealously  the  unani- 
mous recommendation  of  the  doctors  to  afford  her  freely  the 
diversions  of  exercise  in  the  open  air,  cheerful  society,  games 
and  story-books,  and  to  spare  the  tried  nerves  and  brain  by 
every  device  that  the  ingenuity  of  love  could  conceive. 


356  My  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

Her  father  purchased  a  horse  and  gave  it  to  her. 

"  For  my  very  own  !  "  she  said  to  me  at  my  afternoon 
visit  on  the  day  of  the  event.  "  And  either  he  or  you  are  to 
take  me  driving  every  day.  So  papa  says.  '  Oh !  let  us  be 
joyful ! '  as  Mr.  Chadband  says." 

She  waltzed  three  times  round  the  room,  flying  back  to  me 
on  the  tips  of  her  toes. 

"  Now  I  shall  get  well !  It  would  be  very  ungrateful  if  I 
did  not." 

"  She  may  pull  through,"  said  the  doctor,  who  had  allowed 
us  to  hope.  "  She  has  an  exceptionally  fine  constitution. 
Her  recovery  would  be  but  a  degree  short  of  a  miracle.  Yet 
there  have  been  miracles,  even  in  the  nineteenth  century." 

Every  moderately  fine  day,  therefore,  "  Ailsie's  phaeton  " 
was  brought  to  the  door,  and  her  father  left  his  counting- 
house,  or  I  my  office,  to  act  as  charioteer.  Aunt  Evy's 
parlor  looked  like  a  Vanity-fair  wareroom  with  the  pretty 
knick-knacks  collected  by  and  for  the  household  favorite. 
Each  morning  I  left  in  person  a  bouquet  for  the  vase  in 
"  Sister  Anne's  window,"  as  we  named  the  post  of  observa- 
tion from  which  she  watched  for  my  evening  visit.  The  days 
were  short,  now,  and  when  the  street-lamps  were  kindled,  I 
could  only  trace  the  outline  of  her  form  upon  the  red  duski- 
ness of  the  background.  She  would  not  have  the  parlor 
lighted  except  by  the  fire-glow  until  my  arrival. 

"  Gas  lights  made  the  frames  like  black  mirrors,"  she  said, 
"  and  the  world  outside  invisible." 

The  outside  world  saw  little  ot   any  of  us  during   those 


LITTLE  LOVE.  357 

anxious  weeks.  Ailsie  was  never  left  alone  by  day,  and  at 
the  even-tide  we  gathered  about  her  with  solicitous  fondness 
that  must  have  seemed  overstrained  to  those  unacquainted 
with  the  imminence  of  the  danger  that  threatened  us  through 
her.  After  our  first  anguished  consultation,  we  four — her 
parents,  aunt,  and  myself — never  spoke  out  our  fears  to  one 
another,  but  each  felt  that  it  was  a  hand-to-hand  battle  with 
the  destroyer,  and  as  one  day  after  another  dragged  by, 
the  hope  trembled  into  life  in  the  breast  of  each  that,  inch 
by  inch,  we  were  gaining  upon  the  foe.  Drowsiness  and 
lassitude  were  vanquished  symptoms ;  the  step  had  its 
former  lightness,  and  was  at  times  as  fleet.  The  figure  had 
never  drooped.  The  spirited  grace  of  the  "  thoroughbred" 
defied  disease — even  a  waste  so  deadly  as  that  which  had 
robbed  the  complexion  of  its  rich  tints,  the  supple  limbs  of 
their  roundness. 

When  her  father  called  at  my  office  one  November  day,  to 
announce  that  Ailsie  had  gained  a  pound  of  flesh  within  a 
fortnight,  we  shook  hands  over  the  news  as  over  a  national 
victory,  and  laughed  in  each  other's  faces — we  two  bearded 
men — with  eyes  that  saw  but  dimly  through  warm  mists  of 
gladness. 

In  my  rounds  that  forenoon,  I  recognized  the  reflection  of 
my  own  sunlit  heart  in  many  a  wan  countenance.  I  had 
grown  strangely  tender  in  sympathy,  very  tolerant  in  my 
treatment  of  suffering  strangers,  while  my  blossom  was 
fading.  I  hope  I  had  never  been  callous.  I  am  sure  I  had 
not  been  harsh  in  my  professional  dealings,  but  the  dull  eye 


3  5  8  MY  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

of  stupor  and  the  flush  of  fever,  the  sight  of  thinning  cheeks 
that  had  once  been  round,  touched  me  now  to  the  quick. 
Whenever  and  wherever  I  went  among  the  crowd  of  unfor- 
tunates, in  clinical  or  surgical  ward,  I  carried  one  prayer 
until  my  heart  beat  to  its  fervent  measure.  I  remembered 
the  Physician  of  old  and  forever,  who,  when  He  could  do  no 
mighty  work  among  His  own  kindred  and  in  the  home  of  His 
boyhood  because  of  their  unbelief,  yet  out  of  the  great  com- 
passion that  was  in  Him,  "  laid  His  hands  upon  a  few  sick 
folk  and  healed  them."  As  the  sick — snatched  hastily  from 
their  beds  and  laid  in  the  highroad,  clogging  His  feet  as  He 
trod  the  sorrowful  way  whose  end  He  was  never  to  forget  for 
one  waking  hour  of  His  three-and-thirty-years — clutched  at 
the  hem  of  His  robe,  I  clung  to  the  thought  of  His  humanity, 
beseeching  Him  because  He  knew  what  was  in  man — what 
weakness  of  faith  and  what  strength  of  human  affection — to 
have  pity  upon  me  and  the  little  maid  (younger  even  than 
the  ruler's  daughter)  whom  I  loved. 

The  shadow  upon  the  dial  of  Ahaz  went  backward  ten 
degrees  that  trembling  Hezekiah  might  know,  for  a  certainty, 
that  his  prayer  for  life  was  answered.  I  thought  it  not  pre- 
sumption in  me  to  ask  that  I  might  discern  in  the  success  of 
my  ministry  to  the  Lord's  poor  and  smitten  ones  the  sign 
that  my  cry  for  help  had  been  heard.  If,  by  unsolicited 
vigils  and  tireless  labors  beside  and  for  those  who,  to  mortal 
eye,  seemed  marked  for  speedy  doom,  I  could  wave  back  the 
shadowing  wings,  might  it  not  be  accepted  as  part  of  the 
ransom  of  the  precious  life  ? 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  359 

"  Ye  look  as  if  summat  had  heartened  ye  up  a  bit," 
observed  an  Englishman — a  Yorkshireman — who  had  been 
dragged  out  of  a  fallen  house,  the  previous  week,  with  a 
broken  collar-bone,  a  compound  fracture  of  the  leg  and 
three  cracked  ribs. 

"  Something  has  !  "  I  answered,  smiling. 

"Yer  hands  beant  never  heavy,"  he  pursued.  "But 
tudday  they  bees  uncommon  loight  and  delikit-loike.  Ye 
couldn't  handle  yer  sweetheart's  feenger  more  tender  uor 
ye're  easin  thot  beeg  j'int  o'moine." 

I  smiled  again  and  went  on  with  the  bandaging. 

"  Mebbe  ye  bees  thinkin'  o'  hur,  the  whoile?"  he  ven- 
tured, with  a  broad,  kindly  grin. 

"  Perhaps  so  !  " 

"You've  got  one,  then,  hev  you  ?"  said  another  voice,  in 
unmistakable  Yankee  dialect. 

A  thump  between  my  shoulders  emphasized  the  delicate 
jest. 

"  How  did  you  get  in  here  ?  "  I  demanded,  frowning  at 
Ezra  Gaskin,  in  his  Simday  suit,  his  leathery  jaws  wrinkled 
in  longitudinal  creases  with  his  best  attempt  at  an  engaging 
smile. 

"  Come  with  a  friend  of  ourn  who  ain't  likely  to  give  me 
much  more  trouble  for  a  spell.  It's  my  opinion  he's  goin'  to 
make  a  die  of  it.  Ther's  been  a  row,  some  kind,  on  the  wharf, 
and  this  fool-fellow,  he  was  into  it,  of  course.  It's  a  way  he 
hez.  Ma  and  me  we  had  jest  come  to  town  fur  our  winter 
shoppin',  aixl  I  happened  ter  fall  in  with  the  skipper  of  our 


360  MY  LITTLE  LOVE, 

sloop,  the  Mary  Jane — and  sez  he — '  I've  got  a  permit  from 
the  hospittle  fur  yer  nevy,'  sez  he.  '  Won't  you  go  'long, 
and  see  him  got  in  reg'lar  and  decent,  seein'  you're  nighest 
of  kin  ?'  That's  how  I'm  here.  Say!  when  you've  did  that 
'ere  chap  up  ail  square,  will  you  take  Ziby  in  hand  ?  " 

"  Not  if  there's  another  doctor  in  the  establishment  who 
can  attend  to  him  !  "  I  retorted.  "  I  would  sooner  pitch 
him  out  of  the  window,  and  you  after  him  ! " 

My  poor  Yorkshireman  looked  up  with  a  grimace  of  pain 
at  the  compression  of  the  sore  flesh  under  the  roller  I  was 
adjusting. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  good  fellow !  "  I  said  to  him. 
"  I  have  no  right  to  make  you  suffer  for  the  sins  of  others." 

Ezra  did  not  retreat  as  I  had  meant  that  he  should. 

"  Come  now  1 "  he  resumed  in  a  tone  he  designed  for 
wheedling.  '"Taint  Christian-like  for  to  bear  malice.  I 
ain't  denyin'  that  the  Darlings  hez  got  some  right  for  to  be 
bad  friends  with  me  and  mine,  and  so,  I  s'pose,  you  think  you 
hev,  considerin'  you  air  so  desprit  thick — you  'n'  them — 
tarred  with  the  same  stick  ez  one  mought  say.  Fact  is,  I 
bed  to  send  Ziby  off  the  farm,  turn  him  out  o'  house  and 
home,  you  may  say,  and  him  an  orph'n, — on  account  of  that 
little  rumpus  last  summer.  I  was  actilly  afeered  that  young- 
est Darling — that  bloody-minded,  onprinci/<?//^  vagabone  of 
a  Wynant — would  kill  him  at  sight.  No  sech  gret  loss,  I 
s'pose  you  think.  But  kin  is  kin,  and  'thcnigh  I  'low  he's  a 
bad  lot,  I'd  be  loth  to  have  him  cut  down  vi'lent  and  him 
unprepared,  and  an  inquest  in  my  house.  So,  off  I  bundles 


MY  LITTLE  L 0  VE.  36 1 

him  to  town,  and  sot  him  to  work  with  a  carpenter,  and  this 
is  what  come  on  it,  you  see.  If  anything  should  happen 
from  his  hurts,  my  skirts  is  clear.  I  can't  answer  for  the 
Darlings.  People's  consciences  ain't  all  cut  after  the  one 
pattern." 

He  appeared  nowise  averse  to  the  prospect  of  his  relative's 
"  regular  and  decent  "  demise  in  a  city  hospital,  I  imagined. 

"  It  is  against  the  rules  for  you  to  stand  talking  here,"  said 
I  very  curtly.  "  Your  nephew  will  be  properly  cared  for  by 
competent  doctors  and  nurses.  You  had  better  go  back  to 
your  wife  and  your  shopping." 

"'Twould  be  a  raal  comfort  for  to  leave  him  into  a  friend's 
hands,"  he  persisted,  without  moving.  "So's  I  could  hear 
how  he  was  a-gettin'  on  and  in  case  of  anything  happening, 
I'd  hev  infermation  sent  to  me.  I'm  his  guardeen  by  his 
father's  will,  and  trier's  a  piece  o'  property  on  which  his 
father  hed  a  mortgage.  It's  in  the  court  now — the  property, 
I  mean — and  ef  the  other  fellows  don't  swaller  it  up  with 
their  first  mor'gage  ther*  maybe  a  chance  o'somethin'  comin' 
to  Ziby.  And,  in  the  event  of  his  dessolution,  I'd  be  his 
heir,  seein'  he  ain't  of  age." 

I  beckoned  up  an  attendant — a  stalwart  porter. 

"  See  this  man  down  stairs  and  into  the  street !  "  I  said. 
"  He  is  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  ward.  Don't  let  him  in 
again  without  my  permission." 

"  By  jarge  ! "  uttered  my  Englishman,  eyeing  the  slouching 
yeoman  as  he  was  escorted  down  the  long  room  by  the  broad- 
shouldered  Milesian.  "  He'd  fain  talk  'ee  legs  off  an  iron 
16 


362  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

pot — yon  chap  !  Ye  wnr  hard  on  he,  maister — main  hard  ! 
I'd  niver  tho't  to  heer  ye  coom  so  naigh  sweering.  It's  the 
mairciful  as  obteens  maircy,  sir.  No  offence  to  yer  honor  ! " 

I  bit  my  lip  to  hold  in  the  tart  word  his  interference 
merited,  and  finished  dressing  his  injuries  before  I  trusted 
myself  to  reply : 

"  There  is  a  text,  too,  in  the  Good  Book  about  being 
angry  and  sinning  not,  my  friend.  You  would  have  kicked 
that  fellow  down  the  stairs  had  you  been  able  to  stand  up- 
right and  known  all  that  I  do  about  him  and  his  blackguard 
nephew.  Or  you  are  not  the  man  I  take  you  for." 

True  to  my  threat,  I  did  not  approach  the  bed  on  which 
Ziba  Gaskin  lay.  It  was  at  one  end  of  the  ward,  and  I 
could  avoid  it  conveniently.  He  was  well-looked  after  by 
my  coadjutor,  a  clever  young  man  who  reported  the  case  to 
me  as  severe,  rather  than  dangerous.  The  chief  cause  of 
apprehension  was  in  the  inflammatory  state  of  the  system 
consequent  upon  his  habits. 

I  took  advantage  of  Ailsie's  temporary  absence  from  the 
room  that  evening,  to  relate  to  Miss  Marr  the  remarkable 
instance  of  righteous  retribution  that  had  laid  the  wretch  who 
had  done  me  most  harm  at  the  door  of  my  mercy. 

"But  you  would  haye  succored  him  had  his  life  depended 
upon  your  professional  care  ?  "  she  said  seriously. 

"  I  doubt  it  !  Perhaps  a  rigid  rendering  of  the  physician's 
oath  might  make  it  obligatory  upon  n»e  to  tie  up  an  artery  to 
keep  him  from  bleeding  to  death.  But  I  would  not  like  to 
engage  for  myself  to  do  even  that  much  for  hirn." 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  363 

The  tender,  mournful  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me,  I  knew, 
and  in  my  obstinacy  I  would  not  meet  them.  I  heard  her 
sigh  softly. 

"  I  am  not  as  good  as  you,  Aunt  Evy  !  I  am  too  young 
— my  hates  and  loves  are  too  ardent  to  accomplish  such  a 
feat  of  forgiveness  as  would  be  involved  in  personal  attend- 
ance upon  Ziba  Gaskin,  however  badly  hurt  he  might  be." 

Ailsie  stood  in  the  open  door.  I  feared  from  the  startled 
eyes  that  went  quickly  from  my  lowering  brow  to  Aunt 
P>y's  face,  that  a  portion  of  the  last  sentence  had  been  over- 
heard. The  fellow's  name  was  never  mentioned  in  the 
family,  and,  heartily  vexed  at  my  own  imprudence,  I  watched 
her  narrowly  during  the  rest  of  my  stay,  that  I  might  judge 
for  myself  if  harm  had  been  done  by  it.  She  was  very 
gentle  and  cheerful.  Her  former  wild  spirits  were  tempering 
daily  into  a  loveliness  of  calm  that  heightened  her  resem- 
blance to  her  "  twin." 

"  So  you  have  been  gaining  flesh  ! "  I  said,  gayly,  patting 
her  head  approvingly  as  she  occupied  her  low  stool  at  my 
knee.  "  We  shall  have  you  as  round  and  ruddy  as  a  Spit- 
zenberg  apple  by  Christinas." 

She  smiled,  held  my  palm  to  her  cheek  and  made  no 
other  answer. 

"  Beefsteak,  oysters  and  omelets  ought  to  pad  one's  bones 
pretty  comfortably,"  I  continued.  "  I  say,  Ailsie,  I  am 
growing  distressingly  gaunt.  Can't  you  persuade  your 
Dr.  Lawrence  to  prescribe  such  diet  for  me?" 

"  I  dare  say  you  take  enough  of  them  without  his  pre- 


364  M Y  LITTLE  L 0  VE. 

scriptions,"  said  she  dryly.  "  They  seem  to  do  you  so  little 
good  you  had  better  try  a  course  of  Graham  bread  and  gen- 
tian tea.  Dr.  Lawrence  says  there's  nothing  better  for  restor- 
ing the  tone  of  the  system.  The  older  the  bread  and  the 
stronger  the  tea,  the  better  for  you.  One  ought  to  get  up  a 
very  loud  tone  upon  such  stuff  as  that — a  perfect  yell !  I 
know  I  feel  like  it  when  I  take  my  bitters." 

"You  are  growing  saucy  as  you  grow  stronger,"  said  her 
aunt.  "  That  is  a  good  sign." 

"  We  must  take  her  to  Brightwood  early  next  summer. 
By  the  first  of  June  at  latest,"  I  went  on.  "  By  nutting- 
lime,  she  will  be  as  well  as  ever.  And,  Ailsie  !  don't  let  it 
afflict  you  too  much — but  I  am  to  have  six  weeks'  vacation 
then.  My  two  years'  apprenticeship  will  have  expired." 

She  did  not  reply,  nor  turn  her  eyes  from  the  fire. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  asked  I. 

"  Of  several  things.  One  is,  I  am  glad  you  are  to  have  a 
long  holiday  after  working  so  hard.  Then,  I  was  thinking 
of  the  time — ever  and  ever  so  many  years  ago — when  you 
took  me  nutting  in  the  winter,  and  what  a  rage  I  got  into 
with  the  lady  who  sat  down  at  our  table  and  told  you — what 
wasn't  true.  What  a  little  spitfire  I  was  ! " 

"  I  don't  care  to  have  you  recollect  anything  that  hap- 
pened that  day."  Foolish  as  it  was,  I  colored  at  the  remin- 
iscence. "  I  would  rather  have  you  think  of  the  jolly  day  we 
spent  among  the  Brightwood  hills,  a  year  ago  last  month. 
When  you  played  Robin  Redbreast  to  this  babe-in-the-wood, 
and  adorned  me  with  '  crown  jewels '  besides.  And 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  365 

of  the  many  frolics  we  are  to  have  there  together,  next 
year." 

"  Did  you  know  that  we  get  all  the  wood  we  burn  from 
those  hills  ?  "  inquired  Ailsie,  still  studying  the  blazing  sticks 
upon  the  fire-dogs.  "  Sometimes  I  wish  we  didn't !  It's 
only  a  notion,  of  course.  But  I  imagine  the  logs  suffer 
more  in  the  fire  than  others  that  come  from  we  don't  know 
or  care  where.  I  know  just  how  lovely  the  air  and  sunshine 
were  that  gave  them  their  sap,  and  how  fresh  and  sweet  the 
summer  showers  were  that  used  to  patter  on  their  leaves.  It 
looks  like  such  cruel  waste  to  see  their  life  drip  !  drip !  drip- 
ping down  upon  the  hearth." 

I  read  Aunt  Evy's  thought  as  truly  as  she  knew  that  it  was 
likewise  mine,  and  that  sorrow  for  waste  more  real  and  cruel 
wrung  my  heart  as  it  did  hers. 

"We  shall  be  ashamed  to  look  their  brother  and  cousin 
trees  in  the  face,  next  summer,  if  we  indulge  such  fancies," 
I  said.  "  You  must  not  spoil  the  beauty  of  Aunt  Evy's 
wood  fire  for  me.  How  do  you  suppose  Jack  will  take  your 
preference  for  Tricksy ?"  (the  new  horse).  "Won't  he  be 
hurt  if  you  refuse  to  drive  him  ?" 

She  did  not  answer  immediately.  Her  hands — very  slen- 
der now — clasped  each  other  more  tightly,  but  she  stared 
straight  into  the  fire  without  other  motion. 

"  Do  you  think — "  she  began,  in  a  sweet,  thrilling  voice 
scarcely  above  a  whisper — "  that  it  is  well  for  us  to  talk 
much  about  things  that  may  never  happen  ?  Next  summer 
is  a  long  way  off.  Even  if  I  should  be  at  Brightwood  then — " 


366  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

She  arose  and  moved  to  the  window  ;  pressed  her  face  to 
the  glass,  feigning  to  look  out — then  quitted  the  room. 

"  Who  has  been  talking  to  her  ?  "  demanded  I,  indignantly. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  she  means  ?  " 

"  She  may  be  nearer  right  than  we,"  said  Aunt  Evy, 
tremulously.  "  GOD  only  knows  !  But  the  notion — pray 
Heaven  it  may  be  nothing  more— is  her  own.  We  are  all 
hopeful  of  her  final  restoration.  I  have  never  felt  that  we 
were  to  drink  of  the  cup  the  thought  of  whose  bitterness 
makes  us  heart-sick  unto  death.  Even  Dr.  Lawrence,  who 
is  the  impersonation  of  professional  caution,  is  encouraged." 

"  As  he  ought  to  be  !  He  would  be  purblind  if  he  did 
not  see  how  rapidly  she  has  rallied  in  the  last  fortnight. 
These  bracing  northwesters  have  put  new  life  into  her.  To 
foster  these  unhealthy  fancies  would  be  the  worst  thing  con- 
ceivable. We  rely  upon  her  indomitable  spirit — her  '  game 
blood,'  as  Wynant  calls  it,  as  much  as  upon  her  constitution, 
to  pull  her  through." 

Aunt  Evy  repeated  the  four  concluding  words. 

"  That  is  a  genuine  doctor's  phrase.  You  all  use  it  in 
speaking  of  her.  I  ought  to  remind  you,  Barry^-it  is  best 
for  you  to  bear  in  mind — what  a  wreck  may  come  out  of  the 
wrestle  for  life.  Dr.  Lawrence  agrees  with  the  rest  that  she 
can  never  be  altogether  strong  again  ;  that  should  she  grow 
to  womanhood  the  care  requisite  to  preserve  her  in  a  mod- 
erate degree  of  health  must  be  unremitting." 

"  I  will  risk  it !  "  I  answered  promptly.  "  If  she  remain 
an  invalid,  the  more  reason  why  mine  should  be  the  dear 


MY  LI TTLE  LOVE.  367 

right  to  cherish  her.  No  !  no  !  Aunt  Evy  !  you  cannot 
intimidate  me  by  such  prognostications.  Not  though  I  were 
sure  she  would  never  know  another  day,  or  hour,  of  health." 

She  did  not  tell  me  that  this  impetuous  fling  of  the  gaunt- 
let into  the  face  of  Fate  was  selfish,  if  sincere.  I  know  now 
that  it  was  both,  and  that  she  must  have  thus  regarded  it. 

About  noon,  next  day,  a  basket  was  brought  to  my  office, 
by  a  hired  messenger.  Just  under  the  lid  were  two  letters. 
One  superscribed  in  Aunt  Evy's  hand — "  Read  this  first," 
contained  but  eight  lines. 

"  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  have  told  the  dear  one  noth- 
ing except  that  Ziba  Gaskin  is  in  the  hospital,  badly  hurt. 
All  that  follows  her  knowledge  of  this  is  the  outflow  of  her 
own  heart  and  such  Christian  charity  as  one  cannot  name 
without  reverence.  She  has  just  come  to  ask  my  assistance 
in  packing  the  basket,  and  devising  a  sure  means  of  sending 
it.  She  has  not  a  thought  that  what  she  is  doing  may  not 
meet  with  yofir  approval.  I  need  not  counsel  you  to  dis- 
cretion." 

This  was  Ailsie's  note  : 

"  MY  OWN  MR.  BARRY  : — Aunt  Evy  says  that  when  I 
heard  you  call  that  poor  man's  name,  last  night,  you  were 
telling  her  about  his  being  in  your  hospital.  Papa  says  I 
ought  to  know  it,  so  that  I  need  not  be  afraid  any  more  of 
meeting  him  in  the  street.  I  have  not  been  afraid  of  this  for 
some  time,  now.  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  what  has  hap- 
pened to  him.  Would  you  mind  giving  him  the  things  I 


368  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

send,  and  telling  him  I  have  never  forgotten  that  the  poor 
old  lady,  his  grandmother,  was  kind  to  me,  the  day  of  the 
thunder-storm  ?  If  he  should  feel  badly  because  it  was  meet- 
ing him  last  summer  that  made  me  sick,  please  tell  him  not 
to  mind  it  any  longer.  He  didn't  know  what  he  was  doing. 
That  is  the  worst  about  getting  drunk.  I  hope  he  will  get 
well.  I  prayed  for  him,  last  night  and  this  morning. 

"  Your  dear  little  AILSIK. 

"P.S.  Don't  blame  Aunt  Evy  for  telling  tales  out  of 
school.  I  made  her  do  it,  and  wouldn't  be  put  off. 

"  P.S.,  No.  2.  I  open  this  to  say  that  you  must  not  imag- 
ine I  am  generous  in  giving  what  I  do  to  the  poor  man. 
People  who  do  not  understand  that  the  doctors  won't  let  me 
eat  fruit  and  other  sweet  things,  are  all  the  time  sending  them 
to  me.  I  am  glad  to  find  somebody  who  needs  them.  It  is 
*  real  favor  to  me,  you  see  ! 

"  CHKRIE." 

Aunt  Evy  had  intimated  truly  that  commoner  mortals 
should  attend  reverently  upon  the  impulses  of  such  a  soul  as 
was  held  within  this  fragile  child-frame. 

I  lifted  the  white  napkin  covering  her  offering  as  the  pious 
Levite,  who  read  aright  the  types  and  shadows  of  the  first 
dispensation,  might  have  handled  a  sacrifice  after  it  was  laid 
upon  the  altar.  Beneath  were  hot- house  grapes,  oranges, 
golden-iusset  pears,  some  delicate  wafers  and  a  mould  of 
calf's-foot  jelly.  I  carried  the  basket  with  my  own  hand  to 
the  cot  of  him  who  had  struck  the  vigor  out  of  the  sweet 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  369 

young  life, — forgetting  nothing  of  his   crime,  while   I   com- 
pelled myself,  by  thoughts  of  his  victim,  to  greet  him  civilly. 

"  You  recollect  me,  I  see,"  I  added.  "  I  am  the  physician 
in  charge  of  this  ward.  I  saw  you  last  summer,  while  I  was 
hunting  in  the  Brightwood  woods.  Mr.  Darling's  youngest 
daughter — the  one  you  met  in  the  road  that  afternoon — sends 
you  this  basket.  Your  grandmother  was  kind  to  her  once, 
when  she  came  to  see  me  at  your  uncle's,  and  she  is  glad  to 
be  able  to  do  you  a  kindness  in  remembrance  of  this." 

1  felt  that  every  sentence  ought  to  be  a  living  coal  upon 
his  head,  nor  did  I  regret,  as  a  Christian  should  have  done, 
that  mine  was  the  office  of  heaping  these  where  they  belonged. 

He  stared  at  me  stupidly,  contracting  his  eyebrows,  as 
doubting  whether  he  had  heard  aright. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  the  fruit  and  other  things  for  you,"  I 
said.  "  You  can  eat  a  bunch  of  grapes  now,  if  you  like." 

His  lips  were  dry  with  fever  and  the  drunkard's  thirst.  His 
red  eyes  glistened  at  sight  of  the  luscious  cluster.  Yet,  to 
my  amazement,  he  put  them  away  with  the  back  of  his  hand  ; 
twisted  his  head  over  on  the  pillow  so  as  not  to  see  them  or 
me. 

"I'd  as  lief  swaller  so  much  p'ison  as  to  eat  one  on  'em  !  " 
he  growled.  "  You  needn't  kick  a  feller  when  he's  down. 
No — nor  she,  neither.  I  ain't  got  quite  so  low  as  to  be 
beholden  to  none  of  the  Darling  tribe.  You  can  give 
your  trash  to  some  mean-spirited  sneak  what  can  stomach 
it." 

I  was  detained  by  a  press  of  business  at  the  hospital  that 
16* 


370  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

night,  and  could  not  pay  my  evening  visit  to  my  little  evan- 
gel.    I  wrote,  instead,  as  follows  : 

"  PRECIOUS  CHILD  : — I  am  too  busy  to  come  to  you  this 
evening.  I  have  only  time  to  write  a  little  story  for  you  to 
dream  upon. 

"A  lily  once  grew  by  chance,  on  the  edge  of  a  mud- 
puddle.  The  result  was  that  the  lily  looked  very  white,  and 
the  puddle  very  black. 

"  I  delivered  your  basket  and  message  as  requested. 

"  Aunt  Evy  can  put  these  two  paragraphs  together  and  tell 
you  more  than  I  have  leisure  to  do  now. 

"  Lovingly  your  Barry — and  yours  only." 

I  never  enlightened  her  as  to  the  particulars  of  the  presen- 
tation of  her  peace-offering.  It  would  have  been  like  throw- 
ing mud  over  the  lily. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   WIXTER   ROBE*. 

£  all  attended  church  on  Thanksgiving-day, 
even  Baby  and  Aunt  Evy  who  rode  thither  in 
a  close  carriage.     By  appointment,  I  called 
by  for  Allsie,  and  two  happier  beings  did 
not  breathe  the  pure  air  of  that  morning  than 
were  we  as  we  walked  to  the  house  of  GOD  in 
company. 

"I've  kept  this  new  suit  for  to-day,"  she 
informed  me,  whirling  slowly  on  one  foot  as  on  a 
pivot  to  let  me  inspect  it.  "  I  had  a  fancy  to  be  new  and 
fresh  all  through  on  Thanksgiving-day.  It's  the  first  time 
I've  put  on  real  winter  clothes,  and  I  thought  about  offering 
the  first  fruits.  If  s  natural  for  women  j&r  to  like  pretty 
dresses  and  all  that ;  and  though,  of  course,  it  really  makes 
no  difference,  I  felt,  somehow,  that  I  wanted  to  sanctify  the 
first  wearing  of  mine.  I  haven't  one  thing  on  that  I  ever 
wore  before,  from  my  hat  to  my  shoes." 

The  "  suit  "—dress  and  sacque — was  dark  green  cashmere, 
edged  with  black  fur.  A  band  of  the  same  encircled  her  cap, 
which  was  of  dark-green  velvet  A  small  India  scarf  with  a 
scarlet  centre  was  tied  about  her  throat  The  dainty  ruffles 


372  M  Y  LITTLE  L  O  VE. 

she  loved  were  in  neck  and  sleeves.  Gloves  and  boots 
fitted  to  a  charm. 

*'  A  French  child  !  "  I  overheard  a  lady  say  in  passing. 

"A  good  many  people  call  me  that,"  observed  quick- 
eared  Ailsie.  "  I  suppose  because  my  hair  and  skin  are  so 
brown.  One  of  my  very  great-grandmothers  was  a  French- 
woman." 

I  knew  that  her  bearing  and  the  indescribable  and  inimita- 
ble accord  of  costume  and  person,  which  was  a  natural  gift, 
elicited  the  remark.  It  was  clearly  and  highly  compli- 
mentary, but  of  this  she  had  no  suspicion.  In  calico  or  in 
camel's  hair,  she  was  the  lady  born — not  made,  and  her 
sincerity  matched  her  breeding. 

"  "What  a  delicious  day  !  "  she  continued,  leaving  the  topic 
of  her  own  looks  for  one  more  interesting  to  herself. 
"  Neither  too  warm  for  the  season,  nor  too  cold  for  comfort. 
Not  much  like  this  time  last  year !  I  am  very  glad  I  did  not 
freeze  to  death  in  that  fearful  ride  from  Uncle  Richard's." 

"  So  am  I !  " 

I  smiled  at  the  seriousness  with  which  it  was  said. 

She  went  on  : 

"  It  was  worth  while  living  twelve  months  longer  to  be 
alive  to-day.  Doesn't  it  come  over  you  all  in  a  rush  some- 
times, how  good  GOD  is,  and  how  much  we  have  to  make  us 
happy,  and  you  wonder  to  yourself  if  there  are  really  and 
truly  such  things  as  trouble  and  pain  and  death  in  the  world, 
or  whether  all  you've  read  and  heard  and  felt  about  them 
wasn't  a  bad  dream?  That's  just  how  I  feel  today — this 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  373 

blessed  very  minute  !  "  whirling  around  again  on  one  shape 
ly  toe,  as  a  slight  token  of  emotion. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  over  some  lines  that  describe  to  day," 
I  said. 

"  Poetry  !  let  me  hear  !  "  coming  up  close  and  eagerly  to 
my  side. 

I  repeated — 

"  The  shrinking  day  that  sometimes  comes, 
In  Winter's  front,  so  fair  'mong  its  dark  peers 
It  seems  a  straggler  from  the  files  of  June, 
Which,  in  its  wanderings  had  lost  its  wits, 
And  half  its  beauty  ;  and  when  it  returned, 
Finding  its  old  companions  gone  away 
It  joined  November's  troop,  then  marching  past." 

"  Poor  day  !  "  said  Ailsie  compassionately.  "  But  we  will 
rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it  now  that  it  is  here.  I  suppose  we 
shall  feel  as  happy  over  every  day  in  heaven  as  I  do  over 
this.  That's  a  pleasant  thing  to  look  forward  to." 

'  Life  is  a  pleasant  thing  as  it  is,"  said  I.  "  Especially, 
when  my  little  winter  robin  is  well  and  bright." 

She  slipped  her  hand  under  my  arm  and  gave  it  an  affec- 
tionate squeeze. 

I  held  it  there. 

"You  are  running  up  like  Jonah's  gourd,  Cherie ; — are 
quite  tall  enough  to  walk  arm  in  arm  with  me." 

"  And  are  you,  like  Jonah,  exceeding  glad  of  the  gourd  ?  " 
she  asked,  with  the  upward  twist  of  eye  and  mouth  that 
meant  teasing.  "It  is  not  a  very  elegant  compliment  to  a 


374  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

tall  young  lady  to  call  her  such  a  vulgar  vegetable.  Why 
not  say  pumpkin,  or  cucumber,  at  once,  while  you  are  choos- 
ing a  pet-name  ?  That  would  be  something  original,  and 
more  useful  as  well  as  sweeter  than  gourd.  I  tasted  one 
once.  Pah  ! " 

"But  Jonah's  gourd  was  not  what  you  think,"  I  defended 
myself.  "  It  was  the  palm-christ,  a  tall,  graceful  plant  that 
shot  up  like  a  tree,  with  long  broad  leaves  drooping  over 
him  like  an  umbrella." 

"  Is  that  true  ?  Thank  you  for  telling  me ! "  she  cried 
excitedly.  "  I  never  liked  to  imagine  him  as  sitting  in  the 
shade  of  a  coarse  sprawling  vine,  like  the  one  that  ran  up  a 
pole  at  Brightwood  last  year,  with  big  yellow  flowers,  and 
maybe,  little  green  gourds,  bumping  his  head  whenever  he 
moved.  Yet  one  can't  help  being  sorrier  for  him,  after 
knowing  that  it  was  a  beautiful  tree,  to  read  that  GOD  pre- 
pared a  worm  the  very  next  day  to  destroy  it,  and  let  the 
hot  sun  in  upon  his  head, — poor  Jonah  !  I  am  afraid  any  of 
us  would  have  quarrelled  about  it,  and  said,  to  GOD'S  very 
face,  that  we  did  well  to  be  angry.  It  does  seem  as  if  he 
might  have  enjoyed  it  a  little  longer. 

"  That's  something  also  to  be  thankful  for — that  we  haven't 
any  worm-eaten  palm-trees  to  fret  over." 

She  said  it  in  the  church  porch,  flashing  a  glance,  half 
merry,  half  loving,  into  my  face.  Then  hers  settled 
reverently  and  she  entered  the  sanctuary  softly  at  my  side. 

Still  at  my  side,  nestling  nearer,  and  once  laying  her  hand 
stealthily  on  mine,  when  fervent  mention  was  made  in  the 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  375 

sermon  of  the  home-blessings,  health  and  friends,  daily  food 
and  raiment,  spared  to  us  during  the  year,  she  sat  through- 
out the  service. 

Looking  down  at  her  as  we  arose  for  the  last  hymn,  I 
"saw  her  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel."  Others 
besides  myself,  suppressed  their  voices  to  hear  the  clear  tones, 
so  full  and  sweet  they  were  surprised  to  see  that  they  issued 
from  a  child's  lips,  which  raised  the  sacred  song : 

"  O  Thou  long-expected  !  weary 

Waits  my  anxious  soul  for  Thee. 
Life  is  dark  and  earth  is  dreary 
When  Thy  light  I  do  not  see, 

O  my  Saviour  I 
When  wilt  Thou  return  to  me  ? 

"  Nearer  is  my  soul's  salvation 

Spent  the  night,  the  day  at  hand  ; 
Keep  me  in  my  lowly  station, 
Watching  for  Thee,  till  I  stand, 

O  my  Saviour  ! 
In  Thy  bright  and  promised  land. 

"  With  my  lamp  well-trimmed  and  burning. 

Swift  to  hear,  and  slow  to  roam ; 
Watching  for  Thy  glad  returning, 
To  restore  me  to  Thy  home. 

Come,  my  Saviour  ! 
O  my  Saviour,  quickly  come  1  " 

She  repeated  the  second  stanza  while  we  were  walking 
home. 


3  7<5  MY  LIT TLE  L  0  VE. 

"It  was  a  delicious  hymn — words,  and  tune  !  "  she  added. 
"  I  mean  to  learn  it  all.  Strange  that  I  never  saw  it  before  !  " 

1  heard  her  singing  it  above-stairs  when  she  had  gone 
up  to  lay  off  her  hat  and  sacque.  The  refrain,  "  O  my 
Saviour  ! "  was  on  her  lips  when  she  rejoined  me  in  the 
parlor. 

A  goodly  number  of  us  sat  down  to  dinner  that  day. 
George  Marr,  his  wife  and  six  children,  Wynant  and  his  be- 
trothed, soon  to  be  his  bride,  were  spending  the  family  holi- 
day with  the  Darlings.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  the 
parlors  were  left  to  the  children  by  the  adjournment  of  their 
elders  to  the  library  for  a  quiet  chat. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  I  arose. 

"  You  are  not  obliged  to  leave  us  already  ?  "  said  Pressley 
Darling,  hospitably  regretful.  *'  I  thought  you  had  an  all  day 
furlough." 

"  I  have,"  I  answered.  "  I  am  going  no  further  than 
across  the  hall  to  see  that  Ailsie  does  not  over-exert  her- 
self." 

"  I  say  !"  interposed  Wynant.  "  Do  you  propose  to  adopt 
that  child,  or  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"  Shame !  "  ejaculated  his  sister-in-law. 

I  laughed. 

'•  That  will  be  as  she  shall  choose.  Just  now,  there  is  a 
professional  bias  in  my  interest." 

Ailsie  danced  up  to  me,  at  my  entrance,  handkerchief 
in  hand.  "  You  will  be  Buff — won't  you  ?  " 

As  the  easiest  way  of  effecting  my  object,  I  suffered  her 


M Y  LITTLE  LOVE.  377 

to  blind  me,  the  operation  being  performed  so  faithfully  as  to 
flatten  my  eyeballs  and  threaten  an  embolism  at  the  root  of 
the  brain.  In  three  rounds  I  caught  and  identified  her,  and 
pulling  off  the  bandage,  proposed  to  tell  the  small  mob  a 
story.  I  established  myself  in.  an  easy-chair  near  the  fire. 
Ailsie  fluttered  to  my  knee ;  the  others  gathered  about  us, 
some  on  chairs,  some  on  footstools ;  the  boys  sitting  and 
lounging  upon  the  hearth-rug.  My  darling  leaned  on  my 
breast  presently,  and  in  the  hope  that  she  would  fall  asleep, 
I  spun  out  my  narration  by  unnecessary  details  and  digres- 
sions. 

At  the  finale,  she  sat  upright,  her  eyes  large  and  bright, 
and  began  a  volley  of  queries  and  comments. 

In  the  midst  of  them,  I  noticed  that  she  put  her  hand  to 
her  chest,  with  one  deep,  labored  inspiration. 

"What  makes  you  do  that  ?"  I  asked,  quickly. 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing  !  A  sort  of  catch  in  my  breath — that's 
all ! " 

"  Sitting-still  plays  are  best  for  you,"  said  I.  "  Don't  run 
again  to-night,  dear.  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  romping  too 
hard.  Blind-man's-buff  must  be  postponed  until  you  are 
quite  strong." 

"  Do  you  know,  Dr.  Haye,"  she  enunciated,  solemnly,  tak- 
ing hold  of  my  shoulders  as  if  to  shake  me — "  that  you  are 
growing  absolutely  fidgety  ?  It  grieves  me  to  say  it — but 
you  are  in  danger  of  slipping  into  old-bachelorish  ways.  Not 
that  I  object  to  sitting-still  plays.  Or  story-telling  either,  if 
your  next  tale  is  as  delightful  as  the  one  you  have  just  told 


378  MY  LITTLE  L 0 VE. 

us.  There's  nothing  more  charming  than  to  sit  in  this  way 
around  the  fire  in  the  twilight  and  listen." 

Around  the  fire  we  sat,  then,  until  twilight  became  dark- 
ness, and  the  younger  children  were  carried  off  by  their 
nurses,  first  to  tea,  then  to  bed. 

Ailsie  and  I  had  the  room  and  red  half-lights  of  the  hum- 
ming coals  to  ourselves  for  a  good  hour  before  the  library- 
party  poured  in. 

"  This  is  ever  so  much  nicer  than  even  standing  by  the 
window  and  watching  for  you,"  she  murmured,  con- 
tentedly, lying  back  on  my  shoulder,  her  cheek  against 
mine. 

I  never  held  her  thus,  now  a  days,  without  a  heart-ache  at 
the  lightness  of  the  weight.  The  hand  I  pressed  to  my  lips 
was  almost  translucent ;  the  palm  retained  the  shrivelled  look 
and  the  dryness  I  understood  better  now  than  when  I  first 
perceived  it.  But  she  was  better.  She  would  get  well.  I 
discredited  the  owlish  prognostications  relative  to  future 
weakness  and  protracted  suffering.  How  could  she  fail  to 
recover,  with  youth,  a  faultless  constitution,  and  all  the  as- 
siduity of  love's  cares  on  her  side  ?  The  full,  regular  throb 
succeeding  the  transient  heart-pang  was  a  pasan  of  gladness 
in  the  joyful  going  out  of  this  Thanksgiving-day. 

Ailsie  talked  on  brightly. 

"  I  read  a  story,  the  other  day,  of  a  book-keeper  who  had 
stood  forty  years  at  the  same  desk,  and  when  he  died,  his 
shadow  stayed  on  the  wall  for  six  months  before  it  faded 
quite  out.  If  I  were  to  stop  watching  for  you  at  that  win- 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  379 

dow,  I  dare  say  you  would  see  something  that  looked  like 
me  there  for  quite  a  while  afterward." 

"I  would  rather  see  you!"  I  affirmed,  honestly.  "I 
don't  like  fetches  and  shadows." 

She  glanced  away  from  the  subject  to  tell  me  how  well  she 
was  getting  on  with  her  Christmas  work.  "  Aunt  Evy  and 
I  "  were  making  a  great  store  of  mats,  tidies,  cushions,  muf- 
fatees,  etc.,  etc.,  these  manufactures  being  kept  a  profound 
secret  from  each  of  the  prospective  recipients. 

"  It  is  delightful — the  way  my  pocket-money  has  held  out !  " 
she  said,  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  judicious  economist.  "All 
the  materials  I  shall  need  are  paid  for,  and  I  have  a  dollar- 
and-a-half  in  my  purse  for  Christmas  '  goodies '  for  the  chil- 
dren's stockings." 

"  And  you  don't  owe  a  penny?     Happy  Ailsie  ! " 

"  Not  a  cent,  my  dear  sir  !     The  world  and  I  are  even  ! " 

She  did  not  see  me  smile,  being  engrossed  in  her  much- 
loved  study  of  the  fire. 

"  Only  one  month  more  ! "  she  sighed,  presently.  "  Mr. 
Barry !  you  won' t  think  me  very  greedy  if  I  ask  you  one 
question  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  last  thing  I  should  accuse  you  of,  even  in  my 
secret  thoughts.  The  hungrier  you  are  and  the  more  you 
eat,  the  better  I  like  you." 

"  But  this  is  about  forbidden  fruit.  I  don't  like  to  speak 
of  it  here  at  home,  because  they  all  feel  so  badly  already 
that  1  have  to  go  without  so  many  things.  Mamma  would 
never  havs  a  dessert  if  I  didn't  beg  her  not  to  punish  the  rest 


380  M  Y  LI  TTLE  L  O  VE. 

on  my  account.  So  I  always  ask  to  be  excused  before  it 
conies  on  the  table.  They  must  eat  more  comfortably  for 
not  having  my  big,  hungry  eyes  watching  every  mouthful. 
But  don't  you  believe  that  I  may  have  just  one  bunch  of 
white  grapes,  and  one  saucer  of  ice-cream  on  Christmas-day  ? 
It  seems  babyish  to  ask  it  so  long  beforehand,  but  I  want 
such  things  so  dreadfully,  that  I  dream  about  them,  almost 
every  night.  I  never  used  to  be  so  very  fond  of  sweets, 
either.  I  am  walking  through  candy-shops  and  orchards, 
loaded  with  fruit,  and  whenever  I  have  them  in  my  hand, 
ready  to  eat  them,  I  am  sure  to  wake  up.  Even  in  the  day- 
time, when  I  pass  the  confectioner's  windows,  I  have  to  look 
the  other  way,  or  I  should  be  tempted  to  smash  a  pane  of 
glass,  and  '  grab  '  candy  and  cake." 

She  laughed  somewhat  tremulously  to  dissemble  her  real 
earnestness.  I  kissed  the  cheek  so  near  my  lips,  silently. 
I  knew  that  she  understated  the  fierce  cravings  of  a  system 
in  which  the  wholesome  juices  were  perverted  into  poison, 
maddening  appetite  into  greed  for  that  which  would  be  as  oil 
upon  the  fire  which  had  consumed  strength  and  flesh.  Yet 
this  was  the  only  complaint  she  had  ever  spoken. 

"  I  take  it  upon  myself  to  say  that  you  shall  have  these 
and  whatever  else  you  like  best,  on  that  day,"  I  answered. 
"  The  fruits  of  all  the  tropics,  if  they  can  be  had.  For 
twenty-four  hours  we  will  snap  our  fingers  at  the  doctors." 

"  Thank  you  a  thousand  times  !  And — don't  be  angry  ! 
1  try  not  to  be  impatient — but  if  I  go  on  getting  stronger  and 
less  skeleton-y,  mayn't  I  begin  to  study  a  little  after  New 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  381 

Year's  ?  I'm  really  afraid  I  shall  grow  up  to  be  a  dunce  out- 
and-out." 

"  I  am  not !  If  you  continue  to  improve  during  the  next 
month  as  steadily  as  you  have  in  the  last,  we  will  begin  to 
talk  about  lessons  with  the  New  Year.  Am  I  a  very  stern 
master,  pet  ?  " 

"  Never  anything  but  good  and  dear ! "  she  cried,  clinging 
to  me.  "  That  is  one  of  the  reasons  I  hope  GOD  will  let  me 
live.  I  want  to  do  something  for  you — something  to  show 
how  thankful  I  am  to  you,  how  much  I  love  you,  if  I  ever 
have  a  chance.  I  have  been  such  a  bother  and  nuisance 
lately  !  nothing  but  a  great,  clumsy,  stupid  sponge  that  sucks 
up  everything  that  is  given  to  it,  and  holds  all  it  gets." 

I  put  my  finger  upon  her  lip. 

"  No  more  of  that — or  I  shall  think  you  are  fishing  for  a 
compliment  ! " 

"  I  seem  never  to  have  known  how  kind  people  could  be 
until  this  Fall,"  she  resumed,  when  I  would  let  her  speak. 
"  Or  what  dear  friends  I  had.  It  is  a  lovely  world,  and  this 
is  one  of  the  lovely  times  in  it — to  sit  with  you  on  Thanks- 
giving evening,  and  talk  just  as  I  please.  It  is  good  that 
you  could  get  away  from  the  hospital.  You  said  that  poor 
Ziba  Gaskin  was  getting  along  nicely,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  well  enough  in  a  week  to  leave  the  hospital." 

"  I  hope  he  will  do  better  after  this.  I  am  almost  sure  he 
will.  It  has  been  such  a  sad  lesson  for  him.  Can't  you  keep 
an  eye  on  him,  and  help  him,  somehow,  to  be  good,  after  he 
gets  about  again  ?  " 


382  My  LITTLE  LOVE. 

"  I  will  try,  Ailsie — if  you  wish  it." 

The  reserve  of  the  sentence  had  to  be  brought  up  to  help 
the  van  off  the  field.  She  noticed  my  stammer. 

"  I  do — honestly  and  truly  !  Why  not  ?  He  never 
meant  to  do  me  real  harm.  If  he  did,  it  is  time  that  I  for- 
gave him.  Nobody  but  a  heathen  remembers  a  hurt  for  two 
whole  months.  I  wouldn't  trouble  myself  not  to  forgive  him, 
or  anybody  else,  when  there  are  oceans  of  pleasanter  mat- 
ters to  think  of.  He  never  had  a  fair  chance — at  least,  if 
his  father  and  mother  were  like  his  uncle  and  aunt.  No 
doubt  they  are  good  people.  But  don't  you  think  the  best  way 
to  make  people  love  goodness  is  to  make  goodness  beautiful  ?" 

"  That  is  sound  philosophy  !  "  assented  I,  admiringly. 

My  small  teacher  nodded  sagaciously. 

"  It  is  something  better.  It  is  pure  gospel.  '  Let  your 
light  so  shine,  that  men  may  glorify  your  Father  in  heaven.' 
That  isn't  the  text,  precisely,  but  it  is  the  meaning  of  it.  I 
saw  Mrs.  Gaskin  light  a  home-made  tallow  candle,  once. 
'  A  dip,'  she  called  it.  It  was  made  up,  when  she  had  got  it 
going,  of  a  great  deal  of  bad  smell  and  snuff  and  smoke,  with 
a  little  sick-looking  yellow  blaze  in  the  middle.  It  didn't  do 
her  much  credit.  I  have  thought  of  it  many  limes,  since, 
and  hoped  my  glorifying  the  Father  wouldn't  be  like  that. 
If  poor  Ziba  never  had  any  better  example,  we  can't  wonder 
that  he  has  gone  wrong." 

This  was  not  preaching — only  thinking  aloud.  The  slim 
hands  were  chafing  each  other  slowly — the  eyes  full  of  shad- 
ows that  were  lovelier  than  earthly  lights. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  383 

"  I  will  try  to  help  him,  Ailsie  !  "  I  repeated,  sincerely. 
"  For  your  sake  ! " 

"  Philandering  as  usual !  "  called  Wynanfs  gay  tones  behind 
us.  "All  alone  by  themselves  and  nobody  with  them  !  " 

Ailsie  glanced  at  him  in  saucy  defiance,  not  offering  to 
quit  her  place  on  my  knee.  She  even  stole  one  arm  around 
my  neck.  He  was  jealous  of  her  preference  for  her  tall 
sweetheart,  and  she  knew  it ;  loved  to  play  upon  his  unreason. 

"You  seem  to  know  the  signs  pretty  well  when  you  see 
them,"  she  said,  her  eyes  dancing.  "  You  speak  like  a  per- 
son of  experience." 

The  others  were  too  close  upon  his  heels  for  him  to  parry 
the  thrust.  He  contented  himself  with  a  gentle  pull  of  her 
ear  and  a  "  Sauce-box  ! "  uttered  aside. 

I  had  promised  to  be  at  the  hospital  by  ten  o'clock.  At 
a  quarter  past  nine  I  took  leave  of  Ailsie  in  the  hall.  It 
was  her  bed-time,  and  her  mother  was  prompt  always  to 
remind  her  of  it. 

"  You  ought  not  to  sit  up  ten  minutes  later,"  said  I,  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  noting  that  her  eyes  were  languid,  and 
that  she  repeated  the  gesture,  that  had  attracted  my  attention 
once  before  that  evening,  of  pressing  her  hand  to  her  chest 
with  a  labored  breath.  "  You  are  weary,  precious  child  ! 
Tell  me  !  have  you  pain  when  you  do  that,  or  only  a  tired, 
sinking  feeling  ?  " 

She  answered  as  before. 

"  It  is  nothing ! "  straightening  her  figure  and  treading 
firmly  up  the  steps. 


3^4  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

On  the  landing  she  looked  back  and  seeing  me  still 
watching  her,  threw  me  a  kiss,  smilingly. 

Then  I  heard  her  begin  to  sing  in  the  upper  hall,  catching 
up  my  word — "  weary  :" 

"  O  Thou  long-expected  !  weary 

Waits  my  anxious  soul  for  Thee  !  " 

In  passing  from  one  room  to  another  her  song  was  muffled 
for  a  minute,  but  while  I  stood  below  and  hearkened  with  a 
desire  to  know  how  she  really  was  that  was  scarcely  denned 
into  uneasiness,  another  verse  floated  down  to  me,  distinct 
and  strong,  which  emphasized  her  figure  of  the  home-made 
candle : 

"  With  my  lamp  well  trimmed  and  burning, 

Swift  to  hear  and  slow  to  roam, 
Watching  for  Thy  glad  returning 
To  restore  me  to  Thy  home  ; 

Come,  my  Saviour  ! 
O  my  Saviour,  quickly  come  ! " 

The  door  of  her  chamber  closed.  I  should  gather  nothing 
more  by  longer  waiting. 

I  shall  hear  nothing  sweeter  until  the  angels'  song  shall 
awaken  me  from  my  death-sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
"AT  six  O'CLOCK  THIS  MORNING." 

LONG,  rather  narrow  room,  with  a  row  of 
white  beds  on  the  side  bounded  by  the  inner 
wall.  The  windows  on  the  other  carefully 
shaded  by  green  jalousies.  In  every  bed  a  man 
or  a  boy — for  Thanksgiving  frolics  and  amateur  sport- 
manship  had  brought  the  customary  influx  of  patients 
to  the  accident  ward.  Nurses  passing  to  and  fro 
with  bowls,  plates  and  bandages.  Three  doctors 
bending  over  as  many  beds.  Through  an  unshuttered 
window  at  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment  a  slice  of  pale 
blue  sky,  cut  into  irregularly  by  a  peaked  house-roof.  Mid- 
way in  the  aisle  between  beds  and  outer  wall,  myself,  staring 
at  an  open  note  which  contains  a  single  line. 

I  have  had  it  perhaps  a  minute,  but  I  have  had  time  to 
pass  out  of  my  own  personality,  since  I  opened  it ;  to  doubt 
and  then  to  disbelieve  that  this  can  be  the  same  man  who 
bound  up  the  shattered  hand  of  the  boy  over  there,  and 
talked  to  him  cheerfully  of  the  strong  probability  that  the 
young  bones  would  knit  soon  and  firmly.  Have  had  time 
to  see  myself  as  the  soul,  rid  of  the  body,  might  survey  the 
17 


386  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

motionless  figure,  rooted  to  the  floor,  with  blank  eyes  bent 
upon  the  one  line  : 

"Ailsie  is  very  ill.  She  wants  you.  Come  to  us,  if 
possible." 

That  is  all,  and  it  is  in  Evelyn  Marr's  handwriting.  No 
date.  No  signature. 

I  think  an  attendant  accosted  me,  and  finding  me  deaf, 
touched  me.  But  I  remember  nothing  that  passed  until  I 
stood  in  the  office  of  the  principal  physician,  asking  for  an 
indefinite  leave  of  absence.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
thrust  out  his  lip. 

"  You  could  hardly  have  made  the  request  at  a  more 
inopportune  time.  You  must  see  for  yourself  that  we  need 
all  the  help  we  can  get.  Still — "  eying  the  paper  in  my 
hand,  then,  and  more  curiously,  my  face — "  if  the  call  be 
urgent,  Dr.  Haye — " 

I  waited  for  nothing  more. 

I  met  Dr.  Lawrence  coming  out  of  Mr.  Darling's  house. 

"  That  dear  little  creature — "  he  began. 

"  I  know  !  "  I  interrupted  him;     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  end.     But  I  had  not  thought  it  would  be  so  soon." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  " 

"  Beyond  the  glimpse  of  a  doubt.     You  see — " 

I  left  him  to  finish  his  pathological  summary  in  soliloquy. 

At  the  threshold  of  Ailsie' s  chamber  I  paused  and  leaned 
against  the  wall  to  master  myself  in  some  degree.  I  hope 
I  tried  to  form  a  prayer  for  strength.  But  I  had  none  before 
I  saw  her  dear  eyes  and  the  welcome  that  leaped  from  them. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  387 

I  could  not  speak  until  I  had  put  my  arms  over  her  as  she 
lay  propped  by  pillows ;  felt  her  trembling  hand  stroke  my 
cheek. 

"  My  darling  !  if  /  could  bear  it  all  for  you !  could  lie 
down  here  in  your  stead  !  " 

"  No  !  no  !  no  !  I  am  glad  it  is  only  me  ! " 

The  struggle  for  breath  hindered  whatever  else  she  would 
have  said. 

"  Only  me  ! "  In  humility,  in  generosity,  in  heroism,  it 
was  the  key-note  of  her  life. 

She  stayed  with  us  all  that  day.  All  that  day !  And 
twelve  hours  before  we  had  promised  her  years  upon 
earth ! 

Father,  mother,  aunt  and  lover — not  one  of  us  left  her. 
But  one  visitor  was  admitted — the  pastor  who  had  baptized 
her  a  babe  in  her  father's  arms,  who  had  yesterday  bidden 
us  rejoice  in  the  possession  of  health  and  friends  and  un- 
stricken  hearts.  She  knew  him  as  she  did  each  one  of  us, 
thanked  him — with  the  native  grace  which  must  still  be  hers, 
because  so  essential  a  part  of  her,  in  heaven — for  coming  to 
see  her. 

He  was  a  good  man,  and  his  heart  softened  to  yearning 
over  the  patient  sufferer.  He  talked  no  platitudes,  nor  did 
he  torture  her,  or  us,  with  many  sentences. 

"  Dear  child  !  do  you  love  the  Saviour  ?  " 

"  O  yes  !  "  a  gentle  surprised  smile.     "  I  always  did." 

"  You  believe  that  He  is  as  certainly  with  you,  now — as 
certainly  loves  you  as  does  your  mother  here  ?  that  come 


388  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

what  may  of  suffering  or  change,  He  will  never  leave,  nor 
forsake  you  ?  " 

"  I  know  it !  " 

Her  voice  was  feebler,  yet  steadier  than  was  his.  The 
thrilling  tones  never  lost  their  music. 

"  Shall  I  pray  with  you  now,  dear  Ailsie  ?  And  what  shall 
I  ask  for  you  ?  " 

"  Would  you  mind — "  the  familiar  formula — "  would  it  be 
wrong  to  ask  that  I  may  breathe  a  little  easier  ?  I  should 
like  to —  if  GOD  is  willing — if  He  thinks  it  is  best  for  me." 

A  while  later,  awaking  from  a  doze  to  see  her  aunt  sitting 
at  her  pillow,  she  put  out  her  hand  in  entreaty. 

"  Aunt  Evy  !  do  go  and  lie  down  for  awhile  !  You  must 
be  worn  out.  You  will  make  yourself  sick.  Papa,  mamma, 
and  my  Mr.  Barry  will  take  care  of  me,  while  you  take  a 
nap." 

Again,  after  tasting  her  beef-tea,  she  inquired  who  had 
made  it. 

"Norah,"  was  her  mother's  answer. 

"  It  is  very  nice.     Thank  her  for  me — please  ! " 

At  dusk  of  the  heavy-footed  day,  I  lifted  her  into  a  sitting 
posture,  while  her  mother  re-arranged  her  pillows. 

"  Take  care  ! "  she  whispered,  with  her  own  roguish  smile. 
"  I  have  very  little  breathe  left ! " 

Once,  and  once  only,  her  mind  wandered,  and  she  tried  to 
sing: 

"  Nearer  is  my  soul's  salvation, 
Spent  the  night,  the  day — " 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  389 

Articulation  sank  into  a  musical  murmur. 

Night  had  fallen  upon  those  of  us  who  saw  only  with  the 
bodily  vision.  The  light  in  the  sick-room  was  screened  from 
the  dying  eyes  that  yet  recognized  the  loved  faces  about  her. 
From  the  first  there  had  not  been  a  cry  or  groan,  or  the 
faintest  indication  of  impatience.  The  strong,  fearless  soul 
was  breasting  the  dark  waters  in  the  full  knowledge  of  what 
had  come  to  her ;  anxious,  but  for  us  ;  thoughtful  of  our 
comfort,  and  ours  alone  ;  resolved  to  spare  us  present  pain 
and  heart-rending  memories. 

At  a  quarter-past-nine — the  hour  of  our  parting,  last  night 
— she  called  quickly — a  ring  of  exultation  in  the  eager  tone  : 

"  O  papa  !  papa ! " 

"  I  am  here,  my  blessing  !     What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

She  stretched  her  left  hand  to  him,  the  right  towards 
the — to  us — invisible  Presence  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bed. 

"  Papa  ! "  It  was  like  "  All's  well !  "  from  the  Other  Shore. 
"  I  know  Jesus  is  here,  for  He  has  hold  of  my  hand  !  " 

By-and-by,  I  heard  my  name,  breathed  lowly,  but  with 
exquisite  tenderness,  as  in  a  pleasant  dream. 

I  bowed  my  ear  to  her  mouth. 

"  Mr.  Barry  !  I  wish—" 

"  What,  my  dearest  ?  " 

I  shall  never  know  in  this  life. 

Nor,  though  she  lay  thus  in  our  sight,  seeming  to  sleep 
peacefully  until  the  dawn  of  another  day,  did  she  ever  speak 
again,  or  give  other  sign  than  the  deep  breathing  of  a  tired 


39°  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

child,  that  she  might  still  be  numbered  among  the  living  of 
earth. 

At  day-break,  as  the  night-lamps  began  to  burn  gross  and 
yellow,  the  breath  fluttered  over  the  lips  for  the  last  time. 

I  was  back  in  the  surgical  ward  before  the  sun  shone  over 
the  obstructing  roof  into  the  window  at  the  eastern  end.  I 
was  not  faint,  although  I  had  scarcely  eaten  a  morsel  since 
my  breakfast  of  the  previous  day.  Not  weary,  for  all  my 
trying  vigil.  Nor  had  grief  acted  as  a  tonic,  bracing  me  for 
the  work  of  the  hour  by  begetting  indifference  to  personal 
comfort.  I  was  simply  benumbed  and  incredulous.  The 
desire  of  my  eyes  had  been  taken  away  by  a  stroke  so  sudden 
and  stunning  that  I  did  not  know  it  had  been  removed. 

Not  even  when  a  shambling  wretch,  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and 
his  lank  jaws  overgrown  with  a  carroty  beard,  arrested  me  in 
my  rounds. 

"  I  say,  doctor ! "  he  said  awkwardly,  "  I  s'pose  I  shall 
be  let  go  in  a  day  or  so  ?  " 

I  nodded,  and  would  have  pushed  on  but  he  detained  me. 
"I've  been  a  thinkin'  since  you  fetched  me  that  basket  one 
day,  soon  after  I  come,  about  that  little  girl  of  Darling's.  I 
don't  mind  sayin'  as  how  I'm  downright  sorry  for  what  hap- 
pened last  summer,  and  you  can  tell  her  so,  if  you're  a  mind 
to.  Ezry  Gaskin's  wife — what  I  won't  call  "  aunt " — had  some 
bug-a-boo  story  'bout  if  s  having  kinder  upset  her  so's  her 
health  has  been  poor,  ever  since.  However  that  may  be,  I 
wish  I'd  never  played  the  trick  on  her.  How  is  she  gettin' 
along?" 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  391 

"  She  is  dead !  "  I  said,  briefly.  ' '  She  died  at  six  o'clock 
this  morning." 

I  saw  his  skin  change  to  a  cadaverous  hue,  his  jaw  drop  in 
dismay,  and  I  went  on  to  the  next  bed  beyond. 

My  head  was  clear.  My  perceptions  of  all  pertaining  to 
the  business  in  hand  were  never  more  active.,  Yet  my 
abhorrence  of  Ailsie's  murderer  was  dulled  into  instinctive 
avoidance  of  him.  I  had  told  him  of  her  death  as  I  would 
have  apprised  him  of  that  of  the  uncle's  wife  so  hated  by  him, 
had  it  fallen  in  the  way  of  my  duty  to  do  it. 

I  said  over  the  words  to  myself  while  I  dressed  a  gash  in 
the  head  of  "  No  13,"  received  in  an  oyster-cellar  on  Thanks- 
giving night : 

"  She  is  dead.     She  died  at  six  o'clock  this  morning." 

The  two  sentences  should  have  meant  much  to  me ;  ought 
to  have  changed  instantly  and  forever  the  complexion  of  my 
existence. 

Yet  I  had  uttered  them  like  a  just-wound  automaton,  in 
measured,  passionless  phrase.  I  must  be  sorry  for  what 
had  "  happened,"  I  thought,  in  such  mechanical  com- 
monplaces as  I  spoke.  In  the  course  of  time,  in  a 
few  hours,  perhaps — when  I  could  get  away  to  my  office, 
and  think  it  over,  I  should  surely  be  grieved  to  the 
heart. 

I  stopped  at  the  bed  of  a  young  fellow,  about  my  own  age, 
who  had  been  severely  burned  the  night  before,  in  attempt- 
ing to  extinguish  the  blazing  dress  of  a  child.  He  had  borne 
up  bravely,  reported  my  substitute  in  the  ward  at  the  time  he 


392  MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 

was  brought  in.  I  found  him  crying  silently,  his  face  hidden 
in  the  pillow. 

"  Are  you  in  much  pain  ?  "  I  inquired.  "  Perhaps  fresh 
dressings  may  be  a  great  relief  to  you." 

"  I  don't  mind  pain  for  myself.  I  was  thinking  of  her  what 
I  tried  to  save  and  would  have  laid  down  my  life  for, — 
thankful !  My  little  sister,  she  was,  sir  !  Just  six  years  old, 
and  all  I  had  since  mother  died.  The  cutest  young  one  you 
ever  see.  She  didn't  live  an  hour  after  she  was  burnt.  I 
wouldn't  be  so  much  as  touched  till  I  saw  the  breath  was  out 
of  her.  Then,  I  didn't  care  what  became  of  me.  It's  hard 
lines,  doctor  ! " 

"  Somebody  else  is  dead — "  I  was  near  saying  to  him. 
"  She  died  at  six  o'clock  this  morning." 

I  know  I  had  the  impression  that  if  I  were  to  tell  him  my 
news,  he  would  think  no  more  of  the  burnt  baby  he 
bewailed. 

The  forenoon's  work  over,  I  sat  down  at  my  office -table  to 
make  the  usual  summary  for  the  chiefs  inspection.  My 
mind  was  firm  on  its  poise.  Brain  and  memory  were  compe- 
tent to  their  duty.  Yet  I  actually  began  at  the  top  of  the 
page,  bearing  the  date,  the  haunting  formula  that  had  pursued 
me  all  day.  Guarding  every  pen-stroke  and  reconsidering 
each  sentence  I  framed  before  writing  it  down,  I  finished 
the  record,  and  showered  sand  over  the  fresh  lines. 

Then  I  put  on  my  hat  and  passed  into  the  street. 

My  sister  met  me  on  the  second  biock  from  the  hospital ; 
ran  up  to  me  and  seized  me  by  the  button. 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  393 

"This  is  dreadful  about  dear  little  Ailsie  !  "  she  cried,  her 
eyes  reddening  with  moisture.  "  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
it !  I  never  was  more  shocked  than  when  Mrs.  Burtiss 
stopped  me  and  told  me  just  now." 

"  She  is  dead  ! "  I  answered,  looking  curiously  at  her  easy 
tears.  "  She  died  at  six  o'clock  this  morning." 

"You  can't  be  well  yourself,  Barry!  You  look  like  a 
fright.  No  more  color  than  a  ghost.  I  do  hope  you  are 
not  going  to  have  another  spell  of  fever.  You  will  call  upon 
the  Darlings  very  soon,  I  suppose  ?  You  ought  to.  They 
have  a  right  to  expect  it — you've  been  so  intimate  there. 
Please  tell  them  how  sorry  I  am  to  hear  of  their  affliction, 
and  give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Darling  and  Miss  Marr,  and  ask 
if  Sam  or  I  can  be  of  any  service — that's  a  dear  boy  !  You 
doctors  don't  mind  going  where  there  has  been  a  death.  But 
it  fairly  uses  me  up.  I  don't  recover  the  tone  of  my  nerves, 
for  days  afterward.  And  do  take  care  of  yourself.  You  are 
overworked  in  that  horrid  hospital.  I  can't  see  why  you 
stay  there.  But  you  never  cared  for  anything  except  your 
profession." 

I  looked  up  from  the  particular  point  in  the  sidewalk 
where  I  was  used  to  stand  to  kiss  my  hand  to  the 
watcher  on  the  other  side  of  the  window.  The  blinds 
were  fast  shut.  The  house  had  a  gloomy,  forbidding 
aspect  to  me  before  I  saw  the  mute  and  awful  signal 
pendent  from  the  bell-knob,  telling  of  slain  Hope  and  Death 
triumphant. 

I  had  a  latch-key.  Ailsie  had  given  it  to  me,  a  month  ago, 
17* 


394  MY  LITTLE  L  0  VE. 

— adding  in  her  best  brogue — "  And  let  it  be  a  hint  to  yer 
Honor ! " 

I  had  never  used  it  without  recalling  the  injunction  and 
how  she  looked  when  she  said  it.  I  almost  smiled  at  the 
recollection  now,  when  I  fitted  it  in  the  lock.  No  one  was 
visible  in  the  halls.  The  house  was  still  as  if  it  had  no  living 
tenant  save  him  who  had  just  entered. 

I  knew  where  I  should  find  what  I  sought,  and  I  mounted 
the  stairs  to  the  guest-chamber.  The  door  was  locked,  the 
key  on  the  outside.  I  turned  it,  withdrew  it,  and  locked 
myself  in. 

Kneeling  by  the  bed,  I  laid  back  the  sheet  from  the  face, 
and  gazed  without  let  or  hindrance  from  others'  observation, 
upon  the  still  majesty  the  covering  had  concealed.  There 
was  not  one  childish  lineament.  The  beautiful  spirit  had 
left  a  cast  of  itself  upon  the  pillow,  as  it  sped  to  join  its 
mates.  The  pure  oval  of  the  cheek  and  chin,  the  expanse 
of  brow ;  the  carven  bow  of  the  mouth  were  womanly — 
angelic — yet  hers  and  hers  alone  to  me  who  had  searched 
out  the  hidden  treasures  of  heart  and  intellect. 

Amid  the  white  calm  of  the  Presence-chamber,  I  knelt, 
neither  moving  nor  weeping ;  sight  and  thought  enchained 
by  what  I  looked  upon,  until  the  daylight  began  to  wane. 

The  merest  trifle  broke  the  spell. 

I  had  brought  a  ruby  ring  to  Ailsie  from  Paris,  which  she 
had  worn  constantly  since,  shifting  it  from  one  finger  to 
another  as  her  hands  grew  thinner.  If  it  had  not  been  left 
upon  the  forefinger  of  her  right  Jiand  where  I  had  seen  it 


MY  LITTLE  LOVE.  395 

yesterday,  I  would  ask  it  of  her  mother,  as  a  souvenir  that 
should  never  leave  me. 

I  drew  down  the  covering,  and  lifted  the  slender  fingers  to 
rthe  light  glimmering  between  the  barred  shutters. 

Oh !  the  piteousness  of  the  wasted  little  hand  !  In  one 
flash — swift  as  vivid — thought  showed  her  to  me  as  I  had 
seen  her  first ;  the  nut-brown  sprite  of  the  wooded  creek — 
then,  portrait  after  portrait,  each  more  clearly  drawn  than  the 
last.  The  demure  duchess  of  our  betrothal  evening  ;  my 
dauntless  champion  against  slanderous  and  sarcastic  tongues  ; 
the  tricksey  playfellow  of  my  town  and  country  rambles  ;  the 
earnest  student  and  the  tender  comforter;  the  unconscious 
preacher  of  righteousness  to  my  ungodly  youth — my  evangel 
— my  Ch'erie — my  Kathleen — through  all,  in  all,  above  all — 
my  little  love  ! 

"  And  has  it  come  to  this  !  "  I  cried  aloud,  in  a  passion 
of  horror  and  grief  that  told  me  I  had  not,  until  that  instant, 
been  able  to  "  make  her  dead." 

GOD  forgive  me,  if  in  my  frenzied  lamentation  I  boldly 
declared  that  I  did  well  to  be  angry  that  He  had  claimed 
His  own  !  I  humbly  believe  that  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
accounted  it  as  my  infirmity — not  my  sin — that  I  forgot  in 
Whose  hand  she  had  laid  hers,  and  with  what  loving  faith 
when  flesh  failed  and  tongue  faltered  upon  her  last  earthly 
wish  ! 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Evelyn  Marr  rejoined  her  "  twin "  fifteen  years  ago. 
Robby — a  noble  young  man,  whose  gray  eyes,  lightening 


39^  My  LITTLE  LOVE. 

with  mirth  or  darkening  with  earnestness,  often  thrill  me  by 
their  likeness  to  others  I  used  to  study — is  my  office-partner. 
He  will  have  the  major  part  of  my  practice  in  time. 

"  Baby  "  was  married  last  week.  It  was  at  her  "  recep- 
tion "  that  a  gay  witch  of  thirteen  or  thereabouts,  Wynant 
Darling's  third  daughter,  in  fastening  a  bridal  bouquet  in 
my  button-hole,  got  her  fingers  tangled  in  a  mere  threadlet 
of  a  gold  chain,  and  drew  from  the  breast-pocket  of  my  vest, 
a  locket. 

"If  I  ever!"  she  screamed.  "Uncle  Barry — the  con- 
firmed old  bachelor — carries  a  medallion  likeness  next  his 
heart!" 

Her  father  chid  her  so  sharply  that  I  was  fain  to  take  her 
part  and  pass  over  the  indiscretion  with  a  jest. 

It  was  not  until  1  was  safe  in  my  bachelor  quarters  that, 
moved  to  something  akin  to  tender  remorse  that  I  had  thus 
jested,  even  to  shield  the  abashed  child,  I  opened  the  case 
and  looked  at  it  long  and  reverently.  There  is  no  pictured 
face  within.  Only  a  ruby  ring,  too  small  for  the  least  of  my 
fingers,  encircled  by  a  lock  of  brown  hair  and  protected  by 
glass. 

On  the  inside  of  the  lid  are  engraved  the  words — "My 
Little  Love:1 


THE    END. 


OF 
ANGELES 


